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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24437314">Bleeding Hearts And Rock n'Roll</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedShirtWriter34567/pseuds/RedShirtWriter34567'>RedShirtWriter34567</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Laws of Attraction (2004), You Me and Him (2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Withdrawal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Bands, Biting, Body Shots, Body Worship, Broken Bones, Caretaking, Cliffhangers, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Drinking, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time Bottoming, Fist Fights, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Guilt, Hangover, Hospitals, Love Confessions, M/M, Marathon Sex, Mutual Pining, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overdosing, Restraints, Rock Stars, Rough Sex, Sex Addiction, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Tender Sex, Vomiting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:27:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>39,059</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24437314</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedShirtWriter34567/pseuds/RedShirtWriter34567</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorne hooks up with a man named John at the club, not realizing he's going to be seeing a lot more of him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thorne Jamison/John Helm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>146</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thorne groaned when he was awakened by his cellphone ringing. He fumbled a hand around on the bedside table, but didn't feel his phone there. Thorne grumbled and sat up, wincing at the sunlight shining into the room, his eyes and head throbbing. He could hear his phone, but didn't see it anywhere. He ran a hand through his messy black hair and looked around, eyes settling on the sleeping form of the man sprawled next to him. What was his name again? Jake? Jack? Thorne couldn't remember. He remembered meeting the guy at the bar, making out with him in the alley, then bringing him back here. Thorne could feel a deep but pleasant ache pulsing through his body, evidence that the man had fucked him within an inch of his life. </p><p>'Wish I could remember his name though,' Thorne thought, watching the man sleep.</p><p>His dark brown hair was tousled, his lips still red and swollen from last night. He was stretched out on his side, one hand under the pillow, the other resting on his chest. His neck was dotted with hickeys and bite marks, the blanket low on his slender, wiry torso. Thorne's phone continued to ring, and he looked up from the bed to the clothes scattered about the room. His shirt and his jacket were on the couch, his jeans crumpled on the floor, where the ringing was coming from. Thorne left the bed and picked them up, pulling his phone from the right pocket. The number of his new manager, Jason, flashed across the screen. What was he calling this early for?</p><p>"What's up, Jas?" Thorne asked, bringing the phone to his ear.</p><p>"Thorne, where the hell are you?" Jason demanded. "You were supposed to be at the studio twenty minutes ago."</p><p>Thorne's brow furrowed. "For what?"</p><p>He could hear Jason rolling his eyes. "The auditions for the new bass player, you tool. Remember?"</p><p>Thorne cursed and smacked himself in the forehead. Of course. Because he'd started a new band after his divorce, he'd been hosting auditions at studios around England and Europe. Jason putting the word out online. So far they'd picked up an impressive crew-a drummer named Zeke from Ireland, a guitarist called Michael from Wales, keyboarder named David from London, but had yet to find a bassist. Thorne had decided to host the auditions in Scotland this weeks, hoping to attract some attention, and because he hadn't a chance to go any sort of clubs since his divorce. </p><p>"I'm sorry, Jas," Thorne said, rubbing his neck. "I got a little....carried away last night."</p><p>"I can tell," Jason replied, a smirk in his voice. "You sound hungover. And well-fucked, too. Finally score something last night?"</p><p>"Yeah." Thorne glanced at the man still sleeping beside him, still not remembering his name. </p><p>"Well, send them home, take a shower, get dressed, pop some breath mints and get down here," Jason instructed. "We've already got a couple people lined up."</p><p>"Yeah, alright," Thorne said. "I'll be there in another ten minutes."</p><p>He hung up the phone and set it on the nightstand, looking at the mystery man again. He was still asleep amazingly, so Thorne figured that he'd wake him up before he left, and went into the bathroom to shower, He closed the door behind him and turned on the shower, letting the water get nice and hot so that steam wafted about the room. Thorne stepped in and washed his body, his hair, feeling less hungover than before. He noticed finger-shaped bruises along his hips, bite marks on his thighs. He wrapped himself up in a towel and wiped a hand across the fogged-up mirror. His neck was lined with hickeys too, as was his chest. </p><p>"Guy tried to bloody eat me," Thorne said, tracing the marks.</p><p>He brushed his teeth and popped some painkillers, then toweled his hair dry before grabbing his bottle of product and pouring some into his hands, running them for his hair, making it look messy on purpose. He could hear a cellphone ringing back in the main room. Was Jason calling him again? He walked out of the bathroom and froze in the doorway. The man from the bed was awake, standing up by the window, bringing his own cellphone to his ear. He had put on his boxers and had his back to Thorne, who admired the slope of his shoulders, the lankiness of his legs, the smooth line of his spine. </p><p>"I know I'm late," he was saying into the phone. "I kinda overslept, but I'll be by after I shower and change, yeah? Okay, bye."</p><p>He hung up and turned around, then jumped, his brown eyes widening as he stared at Thorne. </p><p>"Hi," Thorne greeted.</p><p>"Hey," the man replied. "You're awake."</p><p>"Yeah, I am," Thorne agreed, waking over to the closet, picking out some clothes. "I'm late for something so I gotta go."</p><p>"So do I," the man said. </p><p>Thorne began getting dressed, feeling the man's eyes on him as he pulled on some underwear, ripped black jeans, a skull T-shirt, and the leather jacket still thrown across the couch. The man blushed deeply and went into the bathroom. Thorne pulled on some socks and his boots, shooting a text to Jason that he was on his way, then called for a cab to take him to the studio. The man came out of the bathroom, fully dressed in the clothes he'd been wearing last night. toweling his hair and beard dry.</p><p>"What's your name again?" Thorne asked.</p><p>"John," the man answered. </p><p>"Well, John, last night was fun, but I'm expected somewhere else," Thorne said, grabbing his phone and his room key. </p><p>"Yeah, it was," John agreed. He licked his bottom lip. "Could we maybe meet up again?"</p><p>Thorne shook his head. "Sorry, mate. I don't do repeat performances. No offense, though."</p><p>John nodded, still looking a little put out by the answer. He grabbed his own phone, along with his wallet and keys, then left the room with Thorne. The cab was already waiting outside the hotel. The two men went their separate ways-Thorne heading to the studio, John walking to the club to find his car.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the time Thorne arrived at the studio in Aberdeen, there was already a handful of people waiting in the front room outside the recording area. Many of them were men close to Thorne's age, dressed to the nines in leather and makeup and chains. Others were dressed more casually, and all had instrument cases. Thorne nodded at them as he breezed through the area and into the recording room, where his bandmates and Jason were waiting.</p><p>"Well, look who decided to show up," Zeke said, banging his drumsticks on the couch. "How hungover are you on a scale of one to ten?"</p><p>Before Thorne could even answer, Michael intervened from where he was messing with his guitar on the other end of the sofa. </p><p>"Well, he's got coffee and his sunglasses on," he said, examining Thorne dramatically. "So I'd say we're looking at a solid eight."</p><p>"You left out the very obvious hickey on his neck that he's trying to hide with his jacket collar," David pointed out, crushing his cigarette into the ashtray nearby. "That's a nine on the hungover scale."</p><p>"Fuck off, all of you," Thorne muttered, sipping his coffee. "So I had a little fun last night. What's the big deal?"</p><p>"Nothing, so long as you do your job," Jason said. "You ready to start the auditions or what?"</p><p>Thorne took off his sunglasses and hung them from his shirt collar, then sat down in the chair in front of the recording both, kicking his boots up onto the table. "Bring it on, Jas."</p><p>Jason smiled and opened the door to call out for the first person. Zeke stopped fiddling with his drumsticks and stuck them into his pocket. Michael put his guitar away while David finished his second cigarette, then joined the two men on the couch. Thorne spun around idly in the chair as the first person from the lobby entered the room and the auditions began. Most the candidates were pretty good, but were missing something, a spark, a passion. It was the same thing Thorne had seen in Zeke and the others, even in Jason when they first met in London. As the auditions wore on, Jason checked off names on his phone before calling out for the next person. Once they were done, Thorne and his mates were supposed to vote on who they thought deserved to be their bassist to complete the band.</p><p>"Where are we going next if we can't find a bassist here?" Michael asked as the last person walked out. </p><p>"Dunno," Thorne admitted. "We could always hold auditions somewhere we already have."</p><p>"I vote we go back to Ireland," Zeke said, drumming his sticks on his thigh. "There's a whole slew of talent there."</p><p>"You mean there was you," David corrected. "And you were half-drunk when you auditioned anyway."</p><p>"True," Zeke admitted. "But I'm here, aren't I? Must mean there's another talented drunk there."</p><p>"Let's not jump to conclusions just yet, gentlemen," Jason interjected. "We got one more guy lined up last minute."</p><p>"Then bring him in," Thorne said. "What are we waiting for?"</p><p>Jason got up and opened the door to the waiting area. "John?" he called out. "Band's ready for you, mate."</p><p>Jason sat down in a chair beside Thorne as the man walked in. Thorne nearly choked on his coffee. It was John, the man from this morning and last night! He wore different clothes-scuffed jeans, boots, a T-shirt under a black denim jacket. His hair and beard were styled neatly, and he had a black leather bass guitar case over his shoulder. His brown eyes widened when he locked eyes with Thorne, who stared back in shock. John hastily averted his eyes and looked at Jason, a flush creeping up his neck. Thorne looked away too, feeling himself blushing as he ran a hand through his hair.</p><p>"Thanks for coming, John," Jason said. </p><p>"Thanks for letting me audition," John replied. "I'm sorry I was late."</p><p>"No prob, dude," Zeke said. "Whenever you're ready."</p><p>John nodded and opened up the case, pulling out an absolutely gorgeous candy-apple-red and white bass guitar. It gleamed like it had been polished as John put the strap over his shoulder and stepped into the booth. Jason hit a couple buttons on the soundboard before giving John a thumbs up to start playing. John nodded and began to play, and it was amazing. He played with such finesse and skill, like he'd been doing it all his life. He looked so focused as his long fingers plucked the strings.</p><p>"He's pretty good," David said, nodding to the beat.</p><p>"Pretty good?" Zeke gasped. "He's bloody fantastic!"</p><p>"Yeah, he is," Michael agreed. "Look at him go!"</p><p>"God, he's good," Jason said. He turned to Thorne. "What do you think, Thorne?"</p><p>"He's alright," Thorne replied, trying to stop thinking about John's fingers inside him last night, pulling on his hair.</p><p>Jason and the others looked at him like he'd just sprouted a second head. John stopped playing, and Zeke, Michael, David, and Jason all applauded. John smiled sheepishly as he slung the bass across his back and stepped out of the booth.</p><p>"Dude, mate, that was awesome," Michael exclaimed. "You nailed it!"</p><p>"Thanks," John said, blushing again. "It's been awhile since I've played for anyone."</p><p>"Well, you did it," Jason said. "Wait out there with the others while we deliberate, alright?"</p><p>"Yeah," John said, glancing at Thorne before leaving the room.   </p><p>Jason shut the door behind him and turned to the band. "Well, gentlemen, any candidates stand out?"</p><p>"You even have to bloody ask?" David said. "John was freaking awesome!"</p><p>"Yeah, he was," Zeke agreed.</p><p>"Ditto," Michael said. </p><p>Thorne remained silent, until Jason touched his arm, and he jumped.</p><p>"What'd you think of John, Thorne?" he asked. "He was good, right?"</p><p>"Yeah, he was," Thorne replied, rubbing his forehead. "But are we sure he's a good fit?"</p><p>"Why wouldn't he be?" Zeke asked. "He looks good and he plays like he's been doing it for years."</p><p>"Yeah, and with how ugly Zeke and Michael are, we need another pretty face to balance things out," David added.</p><p>"Fuck off," Zeke and Michael said in unison.</p><p>Thorne managed a laugh, not really wanting to tell the truth about why he didn't want John in the band. But Jason persisted.</p><p>"Come on, Thorne," he said. "Why are you so unsure about him?"</p><p>Thorne sighed and ran both his hands through his hair. "Because I slept with John last night."</p><p>The room went suddenly silent. Zeke stopped his constant fiddling with his sticks, while Michael and David stopped talking all together. Even Jason was shocked. Zeke broke the silence first.</p><p>"So you fucked him last night or he fucked you," he told Thorne. "What's the big deal?"</p><p>"I had to ask him what his name was this morning," Thorne replied. "And I told him I don't do repeat performances when he asked if we could meet up again."</p><p>"Well, regardless of your drunken one night stand, John has some serious talent," Jason said. "We can't and shouldn't turn him away because of that."</p><p>"Jas is right," Michael said. "Besides, it's not like you're planning to sleep with him again, right?"</p><p>"No," Thorne said. "But won't things be awkward because of that?"</p><p>"Only if you two make them awkward," David replied. "And you've already seen each other naked. How much more awkward could things get?"</p><p>"David's right," Jason agreed. "So come on, Thorne, what do you say?"</p><p>Thorne sighed. As awkward as it was, he knew talent when he saw it. John had the spark that the other candidates had been lacking. Thorne didn't want to seem heartless by turning him away. </p><p>"Alright," he said. "John can be in the band."</p><p>Jason and the others high-fived and whooped in celebration. Zeke opened up the door and called out, "John, come back. We have some news."</p><p>John entered the room again, looking nervous, fiddling with the case on his shoulder. </p><p>"Congrats, mate," Jason told him. "You are now the bass player for the Thorns In Your Side!"</p><p>John's eyes widened as Zeke and David and Michael all slapped his back, rubbed his head, high-fived him. Thorne managed to smile at the man, but he knew there was some things that needed to be discussed before they went on tour.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"We need to talk."</p><p>John froze in his tracks when he heard Thorne behind him. He slowly turned around from where he'd been facing the tour bus-painted black and purple with Thorns In Your Side emblazoned in silver along the side, and faced the rock star. Thorne had his arms crossed over his chest, his styled hair and blue eyes shining in the sunlight. John licked his lips and shifted his weight from foot to foot. He hadn't felt this awkward around somebody since that business with Alex and Olivia.</p><p>"What's up?" he asked Thorne casually, like he hadn't had the best sex he'd had in a long time with the man standing before him.</p><p>"What's up?" Thorne repeated. "Seriously, mate? What the fuck? Did you do this on purpose?"</p><p>"Do what?" John asked, confused.</p><p>"Me," Thorne replied bluntly, uncrossing his arms and putting his hands on his hips. "Did you sleep with me on purpose last night, so you could get this audition?"</p><p>"No," John answered truthfully. "I'd already made the call to your manager the night before I met you to confirm. Meeting you last night and....going to the hotel with you were on accident. I didn't even fully realize what had happened until I woke up." He offered a slight smile. "We were both pretty trashed last night."</p><p>Thorne sighed and nodded in agreement. John fiddled with the handle of his guitar case. The memories of last night had been a bit fuzzy, but had come into clearer focus since this morning. He remembered seeing Thorne at the club, looking as gorgeous as he usually did on TV or in videos, his eyes flashing in the strobe lights, that easy, sensual smile on his lips as he perused the crowd, looking for a target. John had been so lucky to be that target. He'd only gone over to Thorne to talk to him, but the music and the lights and the alcohol had worked their wicked magic fast, and the next thing John knew, he was making out with Thorne in his hotel room, then fucking into him, hearing his wanton cries as he orgasmed. </p><p>'Damn,' John thought, shaking his head. 'I shouldn't think like that about him.'</p><p>He'd known he was in trouble when he'd woken up in the hotel room, saw their clothes scattered about the room. Then Thorne had stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel. John had just be getting off the phone with his manager, Jason, to confirm he would be there for the bassist auditions. Thorne had asked what his name was again. John would be lying if he said he wasn't a little hurt by that. Sometimes he wished he wasn't so bloody sensitive.</p><p>"Alright, mate," Thorne spoke again, bringing John out of his thoughts. "There's no reason for this to be awkward, right?"</p><p>"Right," John agreed. </p><p>"Great." Thorne smiled. "So, has Jas explained everything to you?"</p><p>John nodded. After being welcomed into the band by Zeke, David, and Michael, Jason had given him a contract to sign, which he did after reading it carefully. More than anything, he'd wanted to join the band to get away from his boring life, and to forget about the past painful years. </p><p>"We'll spend the hours on the tour bus teaching you the songs," David, the keyboard player, had told him. "Our first show isn't until two weeks from now in London. We're touring all over England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales." </p><p>John was excited about that. He'd never been to either Wales or Ireland. David seemed to be the most calm of the band, with short black hair and green eyes. He had a small tattoo of a keyboard on one side of his neck. Michael, the guitarist, had thick brown hair that was shorter in the front but longer in the back and sides. His eyes reminded John of rainclouds, deep, dark, grey. Zeke, the drummer and probably the loudest member of band besides Thorne, had long red hair and mischievous eyes, with freckles splashing across his nose and his cheekbones. </p><p>"The band is made up of a lot of different personalities," Jason had told John as they were packing up the tour bus. "But they work well together. I think you'll make a great addition to the group, John."</p><p>John hoped so. He'd never really seemed to fit in anywhere in life. His thoughts were interrupted again, this time by the driver, a Scottish woman called Trixie, stepped outside.</p><p>"Alright, you bastards," she called out. "Let's get this show on the bloody road!"</p><p>The band whooped and climbed onto the bus, Jason included. </p><p>"You ready?" Thorne asked.</p><p>"Yeah," John said. </p><p>He grabbed his guitar case and followed Thorne onto the bus. The inside was rather nicely furnished, with couches, a kitchenette, bathroom, a table, and section curtained off that led to the bunks and Thorne's room. John set his case in the luggage rack next to the only suitcase he'd packed, then sat down on one of the overstuffed couches as the bus roared to life and started moving. Zeke, David, and Michael sat on one couch while Jason sat next to John. Thorne sat up at the table. </p><p>"I say we get to know our bassist a little bit more," Michael said. He looked at John. "What do you say, mate? Care to let us know who you are?"</p><p>John shrugged. "Sure, so long as I get to know you guys better too."</p><p>"You've probably read about us," Zeke said, drumming his sticks on the armrest. "Surely you know us pretty well."</p><p>"I don't know what's true about you guys," John countered. He glanced at Zeke. "Although I can tell by looking at you that your hair is indeed not dyed red."</p><p>The band and Jason all burst into laughter. Thorne opened the fridge and returned holding a twelve-pack of beer, setting it on the table. He opened the case and passed the cans around. His and John's fingers brushed together a little when Thorne handed John his, but both didn't call attention to it. John opened his beer and took a deep drink to steady his nerves.</p><p>"Ask away," he told the guys.</p><p>"I'll start," David said. "How long have you played bass?" </p><p>"Since I was a teenager," John answered. "I took lessons while I was in school." He raised an eyebrow at David. "What's the story behind your tattoo?"</p><p>"Got it a few years ago in college," David replied. "Long before I started playing keyboard though."</p><p>Michael asked the next question. "You ever been in a band before?"</p><p>"Nope," John said. "Never really played for anybody before either. The people I did play for told me I sucked. You play guitar long?"</p><p>"Since I was a kid," Michael answered. "Parents paid for my private lessons."</p><p>The questions continued. John continued to learn about his bandmates and manager, even Thorne. He learned that all of them except for him and Thorne were married. Zeke had a wife and three little girls. Michael had a husband and a six-year-old son. David had a girlfriend he'd been dating for five years, and found out that Thorne and the others liked to tease him about when he was going to propose to her. Jason had a husband but no kids yet. </p><p>"Didn't think rock stars believed in love," John said. </p><p>That earned a snort from Thorne. He drained his lager, crumpled the can in his hand, and tossed it into the trashcan. </p><p>"These guys do," he said. "I don't. Love is irrelevant to a rock star. Why commit to one person when you could nail a different person or persons every night?"</p><p>John and the others were stunned into silence. Thorne's blue eyes flashed with emotion, specifically anger, before leaving and going to his room.</p><p>"Don't mind him, John," Jason said. "Thorne hasn't been a big believer in love since his divorce."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thorne threw himself down onto his bed, staring broodingly up at the ceiling. The room was dark and messy, strewn with clothes, lager cans, paper plates and plastic cups. The vanity in the corner was covered in old stains of makeup and cigarette burns. Thorne knew his view on love might be seen as cynical to most people, but he didn’t care. After his divorce, he’d given up on any kind of love. Love was boring. Fun was fun. He remembered the tabloids after news of his divorce spread. Front pages of him with strippers and other women. His band broke up and his manager left. Thorne’s world crumbled apart.</p>
<p>‘But whatever,’ Thorne thought. ‘I overcame all that shit and came back better than ever!’</p>
<p>He scooted over to his mini-fridge and opened it, pulling out another can of lager. He popped the tab and took a deep drink, listening to the singing he could hear outside his door. It sounded like the band was beginning to teach John the songs. Listening for a few more minutes, Thorne realized they were teaching him the song ‘Bitter Hearts,’ the first and only song he’d written after his divorce. Zeke and Michael and David had written all the other ones thus far. They were as talented in that aspect as they were in instrumentals. Thorne had always been more of a singer, the center of attention, the one who had guys and girls falling over themselves to get to him. </p>
<p>Zeke and the others had fans too, but they didn’t really party as hard as Thorne did. They might accept a kiss on the cheek from a fan or a hug, and a lapdance at the club, but that was it. They didn’t even drink as much as Thorne did.</p>
<p>‘Because their families would be on their asses if they did,’ Thorne thought. ‘Thank God I don’t have that problem anymore.’</p>
<p>The singing continued. Now they were playing ‘Blue Eyes, Dark Skies,’ a song Michael had written. John’s bass was perfectly in tune with Michael’s guitar. They sounded amazing together. And it was nice to get to know John better sober. Something told Thorne that there hadn’t been much talking the first night they’d met. He was nice and kind and talented, but there was something about him, something almost off. What was it?</p>
<p>“His eyes,” Thorne said aloud.</p>
<p>John’s eyes were big and brown, but full of some kind of deep, heavy pain. Why? Earlier, during the questioning, it had become more prominent when David had asked him if he’d ever been married. John had shifted, anxiously, nervously, licking his lips.</p>
<p>“There was a girl once,” he admitted. “But it was a long time ago now.”</p>
<p>He’d seemed so uncomfortable, so David quickly changed the subject. But Thorne was curious. What was the story there? Did they have a bad break-up? Did she pass away? Was he divorced like Thorne?</p>
<p>‘Who would dump someone like him, though?’ Thorne thought. ‘He’s talented and nice and sexy….’</p>
<p>Thorne blushed and shook his head to push those thoughts aside. He couldn’t think of John like that. It would mess up the dynamics of the band. He’d never gotten this flustered about a one-night stand before. Probably because they always left in the morning and didn’t end up on the tour bus for three months. But hopefully, now that things were smoothed out, they could be friends.He couldn’t wait to see what John was like in the thick of things, surrounded by screaming fans and camera flashes. Thorne hoped John was more of a party animal. He was tired of his bandmates’ boring opinions about partying. He’d been at the club for whatever reason in Aberdeen, so there was hope.</p>
<p>Thorne drained his lager and tossed the can aside, then grabbed another one. He knew he should try to get some sleep at some point, but he wasn’t sure he could. He’d been having sleep problems since his divorce, so a doctor had prescribed him some sleeping pills. </p>
<p>“Take two at bedtime,” the doctor had told Thorne. “And do not mix them with alcohol.”</p>
<p>Thorne had snorted at that warning. He’d been taking the pills with drinks for months now, and nothing had happened. Once again, just another unnecessary rule that deserved to be broken. Thorne had never been a big fan of rules, like his dad hadn’t been either. He winced at the thought of his dad and drank more lager. He left the bed and went into the bathroom, where he washed the product out of his hair and popped some pills, then changed into pajama pants and a tank top. </p>
<p>He locked his door, then crawled into bed, hugging his body pillow tightly. It made a good substitute on nights when he didn’t have anybody. It was also the reason he kept his door locked. He knew his bandmates would most definitely tease him for it.</p>
<p>‘They’d think I was a bloody sap,’ Thorne thought.</p>
<p>He fought sleep as the meds began to take effect. His sleep started out dreamless, but it didn’t last. He dreamed he was a kid again, listening and watching his parents argue day and night. That shifted and became the aftermath of his divorce. Every newspaper and magazine article and online chat room called him a cheater, a bastard, a hack, a poser. Thorne had pretended he didn’t give a damn in public, but that backfired and led to him being called a cold-hearted, talentless bastard. In private however, away from the prying eyes and cameras, those comments had cut deep. He really had loved his wife, but like father, like son, Thorne just wasn’t cut out for love or commitment.</p>
<p>"And I'm okay with that," Thorne said to himself all the time, a repeated mantra he'd been telling himself for a year.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Wake up, mate,” Michael said, shaking John’s shoulder.</p><p>John groaned and opened his eyes, his face half-pressed against the pillow on his bunk. Michael smiled at him and vanished from view. David and Zeke and Jason were already gone. The bus had stopped after a few hours on the road, and John wasn’t sure where they were now. All he knew was that he needed to use the bathroom. He left his bunk, which was the bottom one on the row he shared with Zeke and David. Michael and Jason slept in the other two across from them.</p><p>John walked over to the small bathroom and luckily found it unoccupied. He went inside catching himself in the mirror above the sink. His hair was messy from sleep, his neck still marked from his night with Thorne. He blushed at the memory and used the bathroom, then stepped out, grabbing some clothes and his toiletry bag from his suitcase. He took a shower and got dressed, then left the bus to see where the rest of the band was.</p><p>They were stopped at a gas station with only a few other cars around. Trixie the driver waved at John as she filled up the bus. John waved back and looked around for the others. Zeke and Michael were both standing by the building, talking on their phones. Jason was texting on his, while David was sitting on the pavement, flipping through a book and smoking a cigarette. Thorne was nowhere to be seen. John stuck his hands into his pockets and walked over to Zeke and Michael. They both smiled at him as he approached.</p><p>“I love you too, bud,” Michael was saying. “I’ll video chat with you and Papa later, yeah? Alright. Give Papa and hug for me, yeah? Thanks, kiddo. Bye-bye.”</p><p>He hung up and sighed, shaking his head. Zeke sounded like he was having a similar conversation. </p><p>“I love you, princess,” he said. “And I love your sisters. Do what Mummy says till I get back, okay? I promise I’ll pick you all up something nice. Yes, of course I’ll make sure it’s pink. Alright, sweetie, I love you. Bye.” He hung up and ran a hand through his long red hair. </p><p>“Everything okay, you guys?” John asked. “I can’t imagine it’s easy doing this when you have kids.”</p><p>“You got that right,” Michael agreed. “Sometimes it’s really hard being away from Jack and Mason this long, especially with Mason getting older.”</p><p>“Same with the girls,” Zeke said. “My older ones handle it better than my youngest, Julia. The wife manages them the best she can, but I feel guilty sometimes.” He raised an eyebrow at John. “You’re kinda lucky, now that I think about it.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” John asked. </p><p>“He means that since you don’t have a family, you don’t have anything to feel guilty about,” Michael clarified. “You’ve got no strings attached.”</p><p>John rubbed his neck self-consciously. He’d always yearned to have a family, but that dream had crumbled apart a long time ago. He changed the subject.</p><p>“Where’s Thorne?” he asked, looking around.</p><p>“He didn’t get up until a few minutes ago,” Michael said. “But once he did he went inside the store. Since he hasn’t come back out yet, that means he’s probably found his next conquest.”</p><p>John raised both eyebrows at that. Zeke took his drumsticks out of his pocket and started banging them against the pavement. John watched him, the hypnotic motion of the sticks as he moved them. He couldn’t stop thinking about last night, about Thorne’s comment about love being irrelevant to a rock star, the bitterness in his voice, the anger in his eyes. John remembered reading about Thorne’s divorce, and how he’d become reclusive afterward, hardly leaving his Castle of Rock.</p><p>“He’s been this way since his divorce,” Jason said, cutting into John’s thoughts. </p><p>John turned to face the manager. Jason tucked his phone into his pocket and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall as he faced John. </p><p>“What?” John asked.</p><p>“Thorne acts like he’s this no-holds-barred, devil-may-care rock star, but he’s not,” Jason said. “He acts like he doesn’t care about love, but he does. He wouldn’t have acted the way he did after his divorce if he didn’t.”</p><p>John thought he had a point. Most people who went through what Thorne did would most definitely be scarred by it. Was Thorne scarred and just trying to hide it? Maybe. After all, John himself was doing the same thing in a way, by joining the band in the first place. David suddenly came over, tucking the book into his pocket and putting out his cigarette.</p><p>“What are we talking about over here?” he asked. “News, politics, arts?”</p><p>“Thorne,” John said. “Jason was telling me that he’s been like this since his divorce.”</p><p>“Ah,” David said, nodding. “Well, he’s right about that, and if last night was any indication, he’s looking for some new prey.”</p><p>As if by magic, Thorne came out of the store, dressed in tight blue jeans and a deep V-neck shirt of dark grey. His hair was styled into messy spikes, his blue eyes flashing as he held the hand of a pretty blonde woman. John watched them board the bus and heard Zeke, David, Michael, and Jason all groan. Even Trixie the driver rolled her eyes.</p><p>“Guess we’ll be here awhile,” David muttered. </p><p>“You never know,” Michael said. “She might only let him get to second base.”</p><p>Zeke snorted but didn’t say anything. John sat down on the ground beside his new bandmates. Thorne and the girl were only on the bus for twenty minutes before she exited, looking put out. Her hair was messy, her lipstick smudged, her clothes all wrinkled. Trixie got back on the bus and motioned for the others to follow her. </p><p>“At least it was only one girl this time,” Jason said as he boarded.</p><p>“There’s been more than one?” John asked.</p><p>“He’s had threesomes on this bus before,” Michael said, following Jason.</p><p>“The good thing is that they never stay,” David chimed in. “He always makes them leave once they’re done.”</p><p>Zeke suddenly stopped as he was boarding the bus. He looked back at John, studying him carefully. John looked over his shoulders and stared back at the drummer.</p><p>“What?” he said.</p><p>“Nothing,” Zeke replied. “It’s just that I just realized something. You’re the first person in forever that he didn’t kick out once you’d finished. He let you stay the night.”</p><p>“We were both drunk,” John said defensively. </p><p>“I know,” Zeke replied. “But still. He didn’t kick out first thing in the morning either. He let you sleep, right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” John agreed. “But what does that mean?”</p><p>Zeke shrugged. The two boarded the bus and continued on their way to London.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thorne was in his bathroom, wiping the lipstick stains off his face and neck with a wet cloth. New hickeys lined his neck, next to the fading ones from his night with John. The rock star shook his head at the thought of his bassist. The girl-Thorne had already forgotten her name-had helped take some of his edge off. Hopefully he would be fine for awhile. She’d seemed upset when he’d asked her to leave, but there had been too many times when he’d taken people onto the bus and they ended up far from home. He’d almost been beaten up numerous times because of that.</p><p>Thorne left the bathroom and went into his bedroom. They were still hours away from London, and even once they got there, they would still have time to kill before the first concert. Hopefully that would give John time to learn the songs. He could hear the guys laughing on the other side of his door. John’s laugh was crisp and happy, a stark contrast to the downtrodden, puppy-dog eyes and lanky frame. Thorne wanted to get to know him better more, but the whole one-night stand thing made him reluctant to do so. </p><p>‘But I can’t keep icing him out through the whole tour,’ he thought. ‘That’ll fuck up the dynamics when we’re on stage together.’</p><p>Thorne sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He could feel his anxiety creeping in on him again. Since there wasn’t a warm, willing body around, he turned to the next best thing: alcohol. Thorne opened his mini-fridge and pulled out another lager. He popped the tab and took a deep drink to ease his anxious thoughts. He needed to get over the awkwardness with John. Apparently things weren’t as smoothed over as he’d thought. A knock at his door startled Thorne out of his thoughts.</p><p>“It’s open,” he called, sitting down on his bed, the sheets still rumpled.</p><p>John entered the room and shut the door behind him. He wore jeans and a leather jacket over a white T-shirt. He stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the door, deep brown eyes scanning Thorne intently. The rock star stared back.</p><p>“I think we should talk,” John said finally. “Things are still awkward between us.”</p><p>Thorne sighed. “Yeah, I know.” He drank more lager. “I’m sorry, mate. I know I’ve been icing you out lately. It’s just that….” Thorne licked his lips. “It’s just, normally with a one-night stand, you don’t ever see each other again, right? In the morning they usually go their separate ways.”</p><p>“Right,” John agreed. “But in our case, you’re stuck with me for three months.”</p><p>“Don’t say it like that,” Thorne told him. “I like the fact that you’re here, John, that you’re part of the band. You’re really talented.”</p><p>“Thanks,” John replied. “I like being here too.”<br/>

</p>
<p>He walked further into the room and sat down on the cushioned chair in front of the vanity, facing Thorne with his chin resting on his arms over the back of the chair. Thorne drained the rest of his lager and tossed the can into the trash. </p><p>“Can we at least try to be friends?” John asked. “Forget that night?”</p><p>His tone made Thorne think he didn’t actually want to forget. He shifted on his bed, rubbing his neck. He didn’t see any harm in being friends with John. After all, he was friends with the others in the band. Why should John be any different, just because they’d slept together? Thorne stood up and crossed the room, coming to stand in front of John.</p><p>“Yeah,” Thorne said. “Let’s be friends.” He held out his fist.</p><p>John smiled and fist bumped him back. Thorne grinned, feeling the lingering tension between them dissolve. John stood up from the chair and moved toward the door.</p><p>“Michael brought out some cards,” he said. “Want to play?”</p><p>“Sure,” Thorne answered.</p><p>He followed John out into the main room, where Michael and the others were gathered around the table, holding cards and tossing poker chips into the middle of the table. Zeke looked up from his deck.</p><p>“Well, look who it is,” he said. “You guys want to play?”</p><p>“Hell, yeah,” Thorne answered, pulling two chairs over. “Deal us in.”</p><p>Michael smiled and dealt them some cards as Jason brought out some cider from the fridge. Strangely though, Thorne didn’t take one. He didn’t feel like he needed to drink. John didn’t take one either. They played well into the night, stopping a few times to stretch their legs and refuel. A few times during the game however, Thorne and John’s hands touched reaching for chips or to pick new cards. They each blushed every time, John especially. With his fair skin it was easy to notice. </p><p>‘It’s actually quite cute,’ Thorne thought, smiling a little. </p><p>He immediately pushed that thought aside. What had they just discussed? Thorne shuffled his deck a little, keeping his eyes low. Part of his brain was yelling at him to stop thinking about John that way. But another part was saying that it wasn’t entirely wrong of him to think like that. John was attractive. There was no harm in acknowledging that, right? Thorne relaxed a little at that. So he found John attractive. What was the harm? </p><p>‘There isn’t any,’ Thorne thought. ‘It’s not like I’m going to fall in love with him.’</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John was fairly certain he’d never been more nervous in his life. He stood in the middle of a boutique in Central London. The band had arrived in London after eight hours on the road from Scotland. After settling into their hotel and checking out the venue where the concert was to be held in a few hours, Thorne had decided that they would keep up with a ritual and have each band member buy a new outfit to wear at the show.</p><p>“It’s just a good luck sort of thing,” Michael explained to John as they entered the store. “You look great, you feel great, you play great, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess,” John replied, scratching his head a bit. He’d never been much of a believer in luck.</p><p>Michael patted him on the back and vanished into the store. Zeke and David and Thorne had vanished too. John wasn’t sure what to look for exactly. He’d never paid much attention to clothes before. His whole appearance was more casual and comfortable hipster rather than rock star. He walked further into the store and found Thorne in the back, perusing a rack of leather jackets. He already had a pair of jeans and a shirt over his shoulder and now seemed to be finding something to go with them. John fought down the pang in his heart the sight of him produced. Even though the awkwardness between them had finally been resolved, John couldn’t help himself.</p><p>He’d admired Thorne and his music a lot, had felt a connection with when he’d read about the man’s divorce, and was happy about their friendship. But John also couldn’t stop thinking other thoughts about Thorne-his habits of sex and alcohol, his bitterness towards love. John wanted to know who the real Thorne Jamison was, but to do that required an intimacy that they didn’t have. At least not yet. Thorne suddenly looked up from the jackets and smiled. John’s heart sped up again.</p><p>“What’s up, John?” Thorne said. “Finding everything okay?”</p><p>John blinked and rubbed his neck. “Not really. I’ve never really shopped for clothes like this before. How do I know what’ll look good when I’m on stage?”</p><p>Thorne paused in his searching and studied John carefully with his piercing blue eyes. John shifted his weight a little, rubbing an arm self-consciously. Thorne smiled again and walked away from the jackets, heading toward another part of the store. </p><p>“Follow me, mate,” he told John over his shoulder. “I think I’ve got just the look in mind for you.”</p><p>John raised an eyebrow and followed curiously. Thorne led him to a section of the store full of skinny jeans, combat boots, leather and denim jackets, necklaces hanging from hooks on the wall. Thorne combed through some jeans and looked up at John.</p><p>“Stand up there, mate,” he said, gesturing to the raised platform in front of a couple full-length mirrors. </p><p>John obeyed and stepped up onto the platform, hands in his pockets as he watched Thorne pick out some clothes. Occasionally, he would look up at John and study him, tilting his head this way and that. He picked out a necklace as the last thing and then came over to John, handing him the clothes he’d picked.</p><p>“Try these on,” Thorne said. </p><p>John took the clothes and looked up at Thorne uncertainly. The rock star smiled.</p><p>“Trust me, mate,” he said. “There are a few things I know in life-music, how to drink upside down, give and receive a body shot, sex, and fashion.”</p><p>John wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he simply stepped off the platform and into one of the empty changing rooms. He took off his clothes and changed into the ones Thorne had picked out-black leather combat boots, black skinny jeans, a short-sleeved dark-crimson T-shirt, a dark leather jacket with a grey hood and drawstrings, and last but not least, the necklace-a thin silver chain with a charm shaped like a flaming heart hanging from it. </p><p>“How’s it going in there?” Thorne asked from outside.</p><p>John came out and stood up on the platform again, seeing himself in the mirrors. He was shocked at how good everything looked together. The dark fabrics and leather stood out against his skin, and the boots gave him another inch in height. He turned around and looked at Thorne, who was grinning broadly.</p><p>“Told you you’d look great,” he said. “Was I right or was I really right?”</p><p>“Really right,” John said, looking at his reflection again. “How do you know so much about fashion?”</p><p>When Thorne didn’t answer right away, John turned around. The rock star’s smile had faded, replaced by a pensive frown, his eyes on the floor. </p><p>“My ex-wife was a fashion designer,” he said. “She used to have clients over and would spend hours talking to them about what colours would compliment their skin, bring out their eyes, that sort of thing. I used to like to listen to her talk about that stuff, and I guess I picked up a couple things.” His voice became wistful. “She even designed some of my outfits and would tell me that black always looked good on me, that it made my eyes pop.”</p><p>John was silent, processing what Thorne had just told him. That was the first time he’d brought up his ex-wife. Thorne blinked and looked up from the floor, meeting John’s eyes for a second. He walked away before John could say anything. The bassist sighed and changed back into his other clothes, paid for his new ones, then left the store to wait for the others outside. One by one the others showed up, each holding a bag. Thorne was the last one to show up. He held a shopping bag in one hand and a different bag in the other. It clinked as he carried it to the bus, and John saw the contents-a six-pack of lager, one of which was already gone.</p><p>He wanted to say something to Thorne, but the rock star went into his room as soon as they got back on the tour bus and drove back to the hotel.</p><p> </p><p>Several hours later, John found himself in a posh dressing room, dressed in his new clothes, anxiously picking at the strings of his bass. He could hear the crowd cheering and chanting already. His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest and fly across the room. </p><p>‘This is it,’ he thought. ‘Our first concert together.’</p><p>He ran a hand through his beard, careful not to touch his hair, which had been carefully styled. He was waiting for someone to help with his makeup, which he had absolutely no experience with. He hadn’t seen Thorne since that afternoon at the store. He hoped the singer was alright. </p><p>“John, can I come in, mate?” Zeke asked, knocking. “I’m here to help with your makeup.”</p><p>“It’s open,” John called. </p><p>Zeke opened the door and entered the room. He wore ripped blue jeans and boots, his long red hair curling down his shoulders, on display because of the tank top he wore. His eyes were lined carefully with eyeliner, his lip and eyebrow piercing glinting in the light. He carried a large, sleek black case in his hand.</p><p>“You’re the makeup guy?” John asked, setting his bass aside.</p><p>“Sure am,” Zeke replied proudly. </p><p>“Why?” John questioned. </p><p>“I have three daughters, mate,” Zeke replied, setting the case on the vanity and opening it up. “I’m an expert in putting on makeup, having it put on me, and painting fingers and toenails.” He removed a couple things from the case, setting them in a neat row on the table-eyeliner, eyeshadow, clip-on piercings, a fine-tipped red pen, and some other things John had no names for.</p><p>“Are you sure about this?” he asked Zeke. “I’ve never worn makeup before.”</p><p>“Don’t worry,” Zeke said. “I’m not going to make you look like a killer clown or anything.”</p><p>John sighed and nodded, situating himself in the chair and letting Zeke work. After about ten minutes, the drummer closed his makeup case.</p><p>“Alright, John, I’m done,” he said. “Open your eyes and take a look.”</p><p>John did and froze as he looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were lined with dark kohl, his lids painted a shade of blue that faded to purple, a hint of white at the corner of each eye. Two small red x’s had been drawn underneath both his eyes. He looked at Zeke in awe.</p><p>“You look good, mate,” Zeke told him. “Really good. You are going to take so many girls away from Thorne. Now come. We got a house to rock!”</p><p>He took his drumsticks from his pocket and jogged out of the room. John took a deep breath and picked up his bass, strapping it over his shoulder and following Zeke. Michael and David were waiting near the stage’s entrance, dressed in their new clothes and makeup as well. Thorne wasn’t there yet. </p><p>“Damn, John,” Michael praised. “You look awesome, mate.”</p><p>“You sure do,” David agreed. “The ladies are gonna fight to get to you, bruv.”</p><p>John managed a smile, fiddling with his bass. Thorne showed up three minutes before they were due on stage. John’s brain short-circuited when he saw the singer. Thorne was dressed in leather pants that looked like they had been painted onto his body, while his shirt was more of a vest, lined with skull designs and trimmed in silver thread, his chest on full display. His blue eyes stood like beacons against his eyeliner, his hair gelled into tousled spikes. </p><p>‘He looks bloody gorgeous,’ John thought.</p><p>“Are we ready, gentlemen?” Thorne asked, grabbing his microphone. </p><p>“You better be,” Jason said, appearing out of nowhere. </p><p>“Let’s rock!” Thorne shouted, leading the band onto the stage.</p><p>The concert kicked off, and it was everything John had hoped it would be-loud and chaotic and all over the place. The crowd was huge, easily a thousand people, maybe more. Strobe lights flashed in a multitude of colours, while dry-ice smoke poured ghost-like across the stage. Everyone was perfectly in tune with each other. John never messed up once and the crowd went nuts when he did his solo during the song ‘Fight or Flight.’ Thorne was even more gorgeous to watch up close, the way he seemed to command the stage, his voice in perfect pitch.</p><p>As they finished the show, Thorne made the band line up and bow with him. He came over to John and put an arm around him.</p><p>“You all know Michael and Zeke and David,” Thorne told the crowd. “But I’d like you all to meet the newest member of the Thorns In Your Side-our new bassist John!”</p><p>The crowd cheered as John raised his bass into the air. Thorne smiled at him as they bowed and left the stage. It was a dream come true for John in every way. The guys went to their dressing rooms to change before the meet-and-greet with some of the fans who had backstage passes. John wiped the makeup off his face, changed his clothes, and met up with the others. Thorne was already meeting some of the fans, his smile sparkling in the camera flashes as he took pictures and signed autographs.</p><p>Zeke and David and Michael were meeting people too, and John was shocked that there were people who wanted to meet him. He took pictures and signed autographs, feeling actually wanted for the first time in his life.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter will be told from Thorne's point of view first, then John's.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thorne watched John take a picture with a fan, his smile broad and genuine. He’d changed his clothes and washed off his makeup, but Thorne knew he would never be able to get the image out of his head. John was already attractive and talented, but the makeup and the clothes had taken it up several notches. The way his eyes had stood out against the eyeliner and shadow, the glitter still shining on his cheekbones and neck, not to mention how he’d looked on stage, bathed in smoke and flashing lights, those long fingers of his expertly plucking the strings of his red bass.</p><p>Thorne blinked when he realized he’d been staring and quickly looked away, feeling his face heat up. He still couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened at the store earlier that day, when he’d told John about his ex-wife. The wall that Thorne had spent a year putting up had crumbled apart for a minute, and as soon as he’d realized what he’d said, he rushed off before John could say anything. The last thing he wanted was for John to apologize or express any sort of sympathy. Thorne had gone through enough of that after his divorce had been finalized. </p><p>“Thorne?” a woman’s voice asked.</p><p>He snapped his eyes back up from the ground and looked into the face of a pretty young woman, blonde and wearing a short skirt with a tight tank top. She was smiling and twirling a heart-shaped pendant around one finger. The way she was fluttering her long lashes at Thorne made his anxiety about John recede and let his confidence slip back into view.</p><p>“Hello,” he said. “What’s your name?”</p><p>“Erica,” she replied. “I enjoyed the show.” She licked her lip a little. “A lot, actually.”</p><p>“Well, Erica, I’m glad you did,” Thorne replied. “Is there anything I can sign for you?” He smiled and winked at her.</p><p>She blushed and bit her lower lip. A piercing flashed on her tongue. Thorne leaned in close and whispered in her ear, ‘Want to come to my dressing room, love?”</p><p>She nodded, her eyes dancing. Thorne took her by the hand and led her to his dressing room, kissing her roughly as he shut and locked the door. Clothes were thrown across the room as they settled on the couch, the girl in Thorne’s lap. It didn’t take much more before he had on a condom and was inside her, his face in her neck, her breasts as she rode him furiously. Her nails scratched down his back, and he came with a low growl. She came as well and they slumped against the couch, panting and sweaty.</p><p>“Wow,” Erica said, tossing some hair off her face.</p><p>“Yeah,” Thorne said, his chest heaving.</p><p>She got off his lap and he peeled the condom off, tying it and tossing it into the trash, then stood up, pulling on his underwear and pants again. Erica watched him for a minute before getting up and dressed herself. Thorne poured himself a drink at the bar and downed it quickly, the burning soothing the shame he felt bubbling inside him.</p><p>“Should I go?” Erica asked. </p><p>“Yeah,” Thorne said. </p><p>He heard the door open and shut again. He sat down at the chair in front of the vanity, looking at the marks on his neck, his lips smeared red by the girl’s lipstick. His anxiety was gone, replaced by shame and loneliness, but the wall was back up. He was shielded once again. He downed another drink of whiskey, washed his face, and got dressed again. He swaggered out into the hallway and joined his bandmates, who were congratulating John on his first performance.</p><p>“Mate, you were awesome,” Michael said, clapping him on the back. “You nailed that solo!”</p><p>“And you looked fantastic,” David added. “You’re going to be such a lady killer on this tour.”</p><p>“Hell, yeah,” Zeke said, squeezing John’s shoulder. “I saw some girls coming onto you, but you turned them away. Why?”</p><p>John shrugged, blushing in that charmingly boyish way. Thorne’s stomach squirmed. He had noticed that too. Several women had been coming onto John during the meet-and-greet, but he’d just politely smiled at them and apologized that he wasn’t interested. Thorne had noticed a glint of fear in the bassist’s eyes. Why was he afraid? Yet another mystery to add to the growing list.</p><p>“What do we do now?” John asked, clearly wanting to change the subject. “Go back to the hotel?”</p><p>“Hell, no,” Thorne said before anyone else could answer. “This was our first concert together! We should go celebrate! What do you guys think?”</p><p>The guys looked at each other, and Thorne was pretty sure he knew what Zeke, Michael, and David were thinking. John rubbed his neck, looking conflicted. Jason appeared again, tucking his phone into his pocket.</p><p>“You guys can go out if you want, just don’t stay up all night,” he said. “We’ve still got two more shows here before we head to the next stop.”</p><p>“Alright,” David said. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to go out for a little bit.”</p><p>The others nodded in agreement and they left the arena in the tour bus, heading for the closest club. </p><p> </p><p>Fifteen minutes and eight shots of tequila later, Thorne’s head was spinning as he made out with a pretty brunette with a red streak in her hair. Her hands were on his arse, while his had crept down her naked back and were on her hips, under her skirt. Music blared, the floor pulsing like a heartbeat from the force of it, while bodies were grinding against each other on the dance floor. Thorne’s hand reached the girl’s thong, and she moaned, going pliant in his arms. </p><p>“You like that?” he whispered hotly against her ear.</p><p>She nodded, pulling him into a messy kiss. She tasted like cherries and tequila. Thorne pulled out of the kiss to nibble and lick from her ear down her neck to her chest. She groaned, pushing his face into her breasts. Michael and the others had left a few minutes ago, heading back out to the tour bus. The girl suddenly tugged on Thorne’s hair and looked into his eyes. </p><p>“Do you want a drink?” she asked, her tone mischievous. </p><p>“Hell, yeah,” Thorne answered.</p><p>She smiled and dragged him back toward the bar, ordering a shot of tequila. She then proceeded to get on top of the bar and lie on her back. The bartender placed the shot glass on the bar, then handed her the lime wedge and the salt. She placed the lime in her mouth and trailed the salt across her exposed stomach. The crowd cheered as Thorne downed the shot and licked up the salt from her belly, then took the lime from between her painted lips.</p><p>‘I love my life,’ Thorne thought as the crowd cheered and hollered.</p><p>The girl slid off the bar and tapped his shoulder. He turned around with a smile.</p><p>“Now it’s your turn,” she told him. “Do you give body shots, baby?”</p><p>“Yes, I do,” Thorne answered, taking his shirt off and hopping up onto the bar.</p><p> </p><p>“How long has he been in there?” Zeke asked, twirling his drumsticks. </p><p>“Who cares?” David muttered from his bunk. “We’ve been here for over an hour. I promised my girlfriend I’d Skype with her at the hotel. Let’s just go.”</p><p>“We can’t just leave him here,” Michael said. “Remember what happened the last time we did that?”</p><p>“I’ll go look for him,” John said, standing up from the couch. “We’ll take a cab back to the hotel. You guys can go.”</p><p>“Thanks, John,” Jason told him as he left the bus. “See you back at the hotel.”</p><p>John nodded as he walked across the parking lot and into the club. He didn’t see Thorne anywhere, and he hoped that the rock star wasn’t in the bathroom or outside having sex with another stranger. There was a cheering crowd up at the bar, so John headed in that direction. The crowd parted to let him through, and his eyes widened when he saw the sight in front of him.</p><p>Thorne was stretched out on his back across the bar, shirtless while a woman licked up his bare stomach, all the way up to his lips, where he held a piece of lime between his teeth. </p><p>‘He did tell me he knew how to give body shots,’ John thought. </p><p>The woman wiped her lips as the crowd cheered again. Thorne smiled and suddenly locked eyes with John.</p><p>“John, mate,” he slurred. “Welcome to the party!”</p><p>“Thorne, the band headed back to the hotel,” John said, coming closer to the bar and looking down at the singer. “I told them I’d come get you and take a cab back to the hotel, so let’s go.”</p><p>Thorne groaned, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be a buzz-kill, mate. Have a drink!”</p><p>“No,” John said. “Let’s go.”</p><p>Thorne pouted before he suddenly smiled. He grabbed another lime wedge and a salt shaker, placing the salt on his stomach as the bartender slapped a shot glass onto the bar.</p><p>“I’ll make you a deal,” Thorne said to John. “I’ll leave with you if you take a body shot off me.”</p><p>John blushed furiously as the crowded jeered. He leaned closer to Thorne, trying to speak with him privately despite the settings. </p><p>“Thorne, please, let’s just go,” he urged.</p><p>Thorne shook his head, placing the lime in his mouth. The crowd started to chant “Body shot” loudly. John closed his eyes and groaned, before picking up the shot glass and downing it quickly. His face felt like it was on fire as he licked the salt from Thorne’s stomach. Blue eyes met brown as he reached Thorne’s face and took the lime wedge from his mouth. As the crowd clapped and cheered, John spat the lime into the trash and grabbed Thorne’s arm, pulling him to his feet and off of the bar, through the club and back outside, where a line of cabs was waiting.</p><p>“I can’t believe you bloody did that,” Thorne laughed as John pushed him into the closest cab.</p><p>“Shut up,” John mumbled, as he told the driver the hotel’s address.</p><p>They reached the hotel a little after two in the morning. John draped Thorne’s arm across his shoulders as he helped the drunk rock star into the lobby and the elevator, up to the fourth floor. Thorne was getting flirty. He kept trying to snake a hand up under John’s shirt or unbuckle his belt.</p><p>“You are so sexy,” he slurred as they reached the penthouse suite, which had been divided into separate rooms. </p><p>“You’re drunk, Thorne,” John said as he dragged the man to his room.</p><p>“True,” Thorne agreed. “Doesn’t mean you’re not sexy.”</p><p>John snorted, blushing as he deposited Thorne onto his bed. The rock star sighed as he laid back on the mattress, lazily staring at the ceiling as he felt John removing his shoes, his socks. Thorne propped himself on his elbows, staring at the bassist with a glint in his eyes. As John rose to his feet, Thorne grabbed his waist and pulled him onto the bed and into a kiss.</p><p>John pulled back instantly. “What the hell are you doing?”</p><p>“Come on,” Thorne said, grabbing handfuls of John’s shirt. “Don’t talk. Just kiss me, baby. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since you joined the band.”</p><p>John froze as Thorne kissed him again, his tongue flicking across the seam of his lips. Despite himself, John closed his eyes and kissed Thorne back hungrily, lacing a hand through the rock star’s hair. Thorne laid back on the bed, pulling John down on top of him. They continued to make-out, until John groaned and pulled away, his eyes dark.</p><p>“We-we shouldn’t do this,” he said. “You’re drunk and not thinking clearly.”</p><p>“Come on,” Thorne whined. “I know you want me. And I want you. Everything’s consensual here, baby.”</p><p>John wanted so badly to let this continue, but the voice in his head was screaming at him to stop and leave before something happened that they both would regret.</p><p>‘Remember what happened with Alex,’ the voice said. ‘Don’t fuck up this up, John.’</p><p>The bassist groaned and got off the bed and off of Thorne, darting out of the room and into his own. He leaned against the closed door and sighed, his jeans incredibly tight. John went into his bathroom, stripped off his clothes, and took a cold shower, then got into bed, feeling alone but glad he didn’t let anything else happen. Despite what his heart was saying.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John woke up the next morning wishing he could go back to Scotland. If things hadn’t been awkward before, they certainly would be now. He groaned and pulled the blankets over his head. He would never be able to look at Thorne without picturing him laid out across the bar, daring John to take a body shot off of him. John rationalized that he only did it to get Thorne to leave. He remembered the way the rock star’s skin had felt under his tongue, tasting of sweat and salt, how warm his breath had been when John took the lime wedge from his lips, his blue eyes red from the alcohol. </p><p>Then there was what happened once they’d got back to the hotel. Thorne had clearly been drunk, but he’d admitted to John that he wanted him, and had wanted to kiss him since he’d joined the band. John touched his lips, remembering how warm and soft Thorne’s had been against his, the heat of his skin through their clothes. It had taken a lot of his sober willpower to leave the room and not let things escalate, no matter how badly he’d wanted to. He couldn’t take advantage of Thorne like that. He wouldn’t. </p><p>A knock at the door brought John back to Earth. He lowered the blankets and looked toward the door.</p><p>“John, are you awake?” David asked.</p><p>“Yeah,” John replied. “I’m up.”</p><p>He sat up as the door opened and David walked into the room, fully dressed. He cocked his head as he studied the bassist.</p><p>“You alright, bruv?” he asked. “You look flushed.”</p><p>“I’m fine,” John replied. “Really.”</p><p>David pursed his lips but didn’t press. Instead he stuck his hands in his jeans pockets and leaned against the wall.</p><p>“Could you check on Thorne?” he asked. “He’s been in his room all morning and won’t answer the door.”</p><p>The last thing John wanted to do was face the rock star again, but he figured they had things that needed to be discussed. Again. He pulled back the covers and stood up, wearing a pair of ripped jeans and no shirt. </p><p>“I’ll check on him,” he told David. “Just give me a few minutes to shower.”</p><p>David nodded and left the room. John picked out some clothes and went into the bathroom, showered, brushed his teeth, and got dressed, then walked across to Thorne’s room. He raised a hand, hesitating for a second before knocking. When there was no answer, John frowned and put his hand on the handle, easing the door open. The room was silent, and there was an obvious indentation of a body on the bed, but Thorne himself was nowhere to be seen. Not until John heard the violent retching coming from the bathroom. He shot across the room and opened the bathroom door quickly.</p><p>Thorne was on his knees, hunched over the toilet as he vomited. He was still fully dressed in his jeans from last night, his shirt having been abandoned at the bar. His hair was messy and tangled, looking almost like a lion’s mane. He stopped vomiting for a second and glanced at John. His eyes were red and bloodshot, smeared eyeliner making him look like a hungover raccoon. John stared back, willing himself not to blush.</p><p>“What are you-?” Thorne’s question was cut off as he wretched again.</p><p>John instinctively knelt behind him, holding his hair back. Thorne vomited for a few more minutes before he finally stopped, reached up and flushed the toilet. He slumped against the bathtub with a groan, draping his forearm over his eyes. John filled a glass of water from the sink and handed it to him, along with a wet cloth.</p><p>“Thanks,” Thorne said, taking them.</p><p>“You’re welcome,” John replied.</p><p>Thorne drained the water with a sign, then used the cloth to clean his eyes. He attempted to stand up, only to slip back to the floor. John took him gently by the arm and helped him up.</p><p>“Take it easy,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Lean on me.”</p><p>Thorne grunted as he leaned against the bassist, letting himself be led back to his bed. He laid down with another groan, kneading his head with both hands. John rummaged around at the mini-bar, until he procured a bottle of sports drink and some ice. He put the ice in a plastic bag and wrapped it in a towel, then came back over to Thorne.</p><p>“Here,” John said. “Drink and hold this against your head. It’ll help.”</p><p>Thorne accepted both items and obeyed, sipping the sport drink while balancing the ice pack against his head. John sat on the end of the bed, unsure how to broach the subject.</p><p>“Thanks for this,” Thorne said after a few minutes. </p><p>“No problem,” John replied. “It’s not my first time helping someone with a hangover.”</p><p>Thorne managed a small smile and a laugh as he sipped more of his drink. He sat up against the headboard and sighed, setting aside the ice pack. </p><p>“Do you remember anything about last night?” John blurted, unable to help himself.</p><p>“No,” Thorne admitted. “Everything after the concert is just a blank slate.” He scratched his head a bit. “Guess I really drank myself into no man’s land last night.”</p><p>John felt a strange mix of relief and heartbreak. He wrung his hands and looked away, willing his sensitive side down, deep down. Some of his distress must have shown on his face, because Thorne suddenly frowned and leaned forward.</p><p>“What’s wrong, John?” he asked.</p><p>“N-nothing,” John answered. “I’ll see you later.”</p><p>He left the room quickly before Thorne could interject. Shutting and locking the door to his own room, John slid down it and onto the floor, bringing his knees up to his chest. He hated how sensitive he was. He willed his tears down and instead decided to turn them into something productive. He grabbed a notebook and pen from his suitcase and started writing. He wrote until the band came by, Thorne included, to gather him for rehearsal. They still had two more shows to do in London before driving to the next venue. John plucked the strings of his bass, listening to Thorne sing. He tried to maintain an air of nonchalance, but the other band members were not so easily fooled. They asked him several times throughout the rehearsal if he was alright.</p><p>“Everything’s fine,” John told them. “I’m just tired.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” Michael asked. “We didn’t see you last night after you picked up Thorne from the bar. Did something happen between you two again?”</p><p>John glanced at Thorne, looking handsome as always but still so out of reach.</p><p>“No,” he told Michael. “Nothing happened.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Something was up with John. Thorne knew that much. They were back on the road, heading from London to their next gig in Wales. John had been acting strange since the night after their first concert. Thorne didn’t remember anything that had happened that night, despite straining his memory over the past week. He knew that something must have happened, something that John wasn’t telling him. The others didn’t know either.</p><p>“John’s the one who picked you up from the bar that night,” David told him. “He didn’t say anything else about it.”</p><p>Thorne frowned and glanced at the bassist, who was sitting up at the table on the tour bus, scribbling away in a faded notebook. He was still the same kind, talented guy he’d always been, but there was a new sadness in his brown eyes, one that made him look perpetually like a rejected puppy. Michael and Jason and the others had been asking him if he was alright, and he always said that he was. Thorne believed him, but that still didn’t stop the rock star from being concerned, especially since the sadness in John’s eyes became more pronounced whenever Thorne was around.</p><p>‘Did I do something that night?’ Thorne thought to himself. ‘Or did I do something else after that?’</p><p>In truth, because of how much of a success their comeback had been, Thorne had been reveling in the fans, going out to clubs every night while his bandmates stayed at whatever hotel they were staying at. All except John. Despite whatever was wrong, he always went with Thorne to the club or the bar, not to drink, but to make sure the rock star made it back in one piece. Thorne figured that John had only stepped up because the others were tired of babysitting him when they had other priorities. John didn’t give him crap about being drunk or having sex with strangers the way the others did.</p><p>“At least he still wants to be friends, despite whatever happened between us,” Thorne said to himself.</p><p>They arrived in Wales late in the afternoon, after four hours on the road. They checked into their hotel, where they all had separate rooms on the same floor. The concert wasn’t until that night, so they had time to kill. Michael suggested they go to the nearest mall.</p><p>“What for?” Thorne asked.</p><p>“I promised Mason I’d bring him something back from Wales,” Michael replied. “Zeke wants to find something for his girls too.”</p><p>Thorne sighed but nodded. He could always find some alcohol or something to keep himself busy. They drove to the mall where the band split up, Michael and Zeke heading toward a toy shop, David walking into a jewelry store. John stayed with Thorne, silent and a tad pensive.</p><p>“Mate, are you sure you're okay?” Thorne asked him. “If something’s bothering you, maybe one of us can help.”</p><p>“No, you can’t,” John replied flatly. He blinked, probably realizing how rude that may have come across, and sighed, rubbing his neck. “I’m sorry, Thorne. It’s just some...personal stuff that I have to work through. I’ll be fine, I promise.”</p><p>His eyes said the opposite. Thorne’s mum had always told him that the eyes were the most vulnerable parts of people. They showed emotions, pain and sadness, anger and bitterness. She used to tell Thorne that if he thought a person was lying, try and look into their eyes.</p><p>“Lips lie,” she’d said. “Eyes tell the truth.”</p><p>Thorne heard that mantra now as he walked with John through the mall. John had his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the ground, his head lowered. He still wore the flaming-heart necklace Thorne had bought him in London, and it jingled as he walked.</p><p>“John,” Thorne said suddenly.</p><p>He stopped walking and looked up from the floor. Thorne sighed and ran a hand through his hair.</p><p>“Look, I don’t remember anything from that night in London,” he told John. “But if I did anything or said anything to upset you, I’m sorry.”</p><p>John smiled a little, the slightest twitch of his full lips, his eyes brightening. Thorne felt an odd clenching in his belly at the sight. </p><p>“This doesn’t have anything to do with you, Thorne,” John told him. “It’s mostly me and who I am.”</p><p>Thorne didn’t understand what that meant, but he didn’t have much time to dwell on it before the others showed up, holding bags. They headed back to the tour bus and went to the hotel to rehearse. John seemed a bit better, but the sadness in his eyes remained. Thorne heard his mum’s voice in his head again.</p><p>“People aren’t born with sadness in their eyes, love,” she’d said. “The sadness they experience in their life gathers there and festers, adds weight to their soul.”</p><p>Thorne still wasn’t sure he believed that. Eyes were just eyes. The rehearsal continued for another two hours, then they headed to the arena where the concert was being held. The band went to their dressing rooms to get ready. Thorne chose his outfit of leather pants and a tight black T-shirt, styled his hair and applied glitter-tinged eyeliner to his eyes. He met up with the others in the hallway. 

</p><p>Michael and David and Zeke looked awesome as always, but when John joined them, Thorne felt his heart stutter to a stop. John looked bloody stunning. He wore ripped black jeans with a dark denim jacket, his hair and beard carefully styled. His eyes were highlighted with purple shadow that faded to blue, glitter shining on his cheekbones, his fingernails painted black and blue.</p><p>Thorne blinked, feeling his face flush as he hastily looked away. The concert kicked off. It had a bigger crowd than London, cameras flashing and people screaming. Thorne was in his element. The show lasted for two hours. As the band bowed, Thorne and John stood close to each other, their arms brushing together as they bowed. Thorne felt a spark travel between them, and looked into the bassist’s eyes for a minute too long.</p><p>John stared back, his eyes bright against his makeup. Thorne felt his heart skip a beat, his stomach clenching. John blinked, breaking the spell between them and almost ran off the stage. The rest of the band followed suit. After that, it was a blur of meeting fans, signing autographs and taking pictures. Everything was great, until Thorne looked over and saw John receiving a kiss on the cheek from a fan. </p><p>It was just a peck, really. But for some reason, it caused a strange heat to build in Thorne’s chest. He stamped the feeling down instinctively.</p><p>‘What the hell is going on with me?’ Thorne thought. He shook his head. ‘I need a drink.’</p><p>He didn’t see anybody that sparked his interest in the crowd of fans, so he figured he’d have a better shot at the club. </p><p>“I’m going out,” he said as he and the band walked back to the bus. “Anybody else want to come along?”</p><p>“I’ll come with you,” John said. </p><p>“We’ll wait on the tour bus,” Zeke said. “Just don’t stay out as late like you did in London.”</p><p>Thorne rolled his eyes but didn’t respond. They reached the bus, where he told Trixie to drive to the closest club. Michael, David, Zeke, and Jason went to their bunks while John sat on one of the couches, scribbling away in his notebook again. He’d been doing that since London. Was he writing a song? Thorne kind of hoped so. He was curious as to what kind of thoughts were going through John’s head, given how off he’d been lately.</p><p>‘Songwriters write their pain,’ Thorne thought. ‘Maybe that’s what he’s doing to cope with whatever personal stuff he’s got going on.’</p><p> </p><p>Ten minutes later, he was downing shots of some kind thick, dark liquor, while heavy-metal blared from stereo speakers and people clad in leather and fishnet and chains crowded the dance floor. Thorne wiped his lips, a warm and tingly feeling in his blood. He leaned against the bar and surveyed the crowd, looking for a target. John was sitting at the far end of the bar, sipping a soda and keeping an eye on the buzzed rock star.</p><p>A man suddenly broke away from the dance floor and walked up to Thorne. He wore a leather vest with no shirt, his hair swept to one side. His eyes lazily trailed up and down Thorne’s body. </p><p>“You’re Thorne Jamison,” he said. “I was just at one of your shows. It was awesome.”</p><p>“Thanks, mate,” Thorne replied. </p><p>The man smiled and leaned closer. Thorne grinned back. The man was tall and muscular, his skin shiny with sweat and glitter. He took Thorne’s hand in his and instead of dragging him to the dance floor, pulled him into a kiss and outside into an alley. Thorne melted against the man’s strong form, not realizing anything was wrong until he felt the man’s hands at his crotch, undoing his pants.</p><p>“W-wait,” Thorne mumbled. “Stop.”</p><p>He tried to pull away, but the man pinned him against the wall with a snarl. </p><p>“Come on, don’t fight,” he whispered into Thorne’s ear. “We both know what a slut you are. You want this.”</p><p>Thorne’s heart began to race. He squirmed against the man’ iron grip, his pants almost undone. His skin crawled as the man nuzzled his neck, leaving sloppy kisses against his skin.</p><p>“Help!” Thorne cried.</p><p>“Shut up,” the man growled, gripping Thorne’s hip and spinning him around, pinning him to the rough brick wall. “Just take it.”</p><p>Thorne’s eyes welled with tears. He couldn’t get free; the man was too strong. He heard a zipper going down.</p><p>“Hey!” John suddenly shouted. “Get off of him, you son of a bitch!”</p><p>The man turned around, his grip loosening. Thorne seized his chance and scrambled out of reach, sinking to the ground and skittering away. The man cursed and tried to grab him, but John suddenly appeared, grabbing the man’s wrist and pushing him away.</p><p>“Fuck off, man!” John shouted. “Leave him alone!”</p><p>The man snarled and grabbed the front of John’s jacket, punching him square in the stomach. John crumpled to the ground, wheezing. The man kicked him then, right in the chest. John rolled across the concrete, coughing blood, only to be kicked again and then punched.</p><p>“Stop it!” Thorne shouted. </p><p>The man didn’t listen. He hauled John up by his collar and dragged him over to a nearby Dumpster, where he pinned John’s right hand to edge and brought the lid down onto it, three times in quick succession. John screamed in agony. </p><p>“Fuck off, you bloody bastard!” Thorne screamed.</p><p>The man stopped as two security guards came bursting into the alley. He took off running down the street while Thorne ran to John, who was curled up on the ground, crying and holding his right hand against his chest. Three of his fingers were discolored, the knuckles bloody and swollen. Blood stained his shirt as he coughed, his lip split open, tears running down his bruised cheekbone.</p><p>Thorne was in shock at what had just happened. He stared at John for a good thirty seconds before snapping out of it.</p><p>“Come on, mate,” he said. “Stand up if you can, and lean on me. We have to get you out of here and to the hospital.”</p><p>John nodded and slowly sat up, hissing in pain. He stood up but crumpled back to the ground, crying out as he did.</p><p>“I-I can’t get up,” he wheezed. “It-it hurts too much.”</p><p>“Try again, mate,” Thorne pleaded. “Just take it slow.”</p><p>John nodded and stood up very slowly, hissing through his teeth. He leaned against Thorne as they walked back to where the bus was waiting in the parking lot. The guys and Trixie all freaked out when they saw John, covered in blood and holding his hand.</p><p>“What the hell happened?” Jason exclaimed.</p><p>“Long story,” Thorne said quickly. “We need to get John to the hospital.”</p><p>The bus roared to life as Trixie drove like hell to the closest hospital. Zeke grabbed an ice pack from the fridge and handed it to John, who rested his injured hand on it, breathing heavily. They arrived at the hospital in record time, and all of them went in with John, who was taken away by doctors immediately when they saw his hand and the blood on his shirt. As he was wheeled down the hall on a gurney, leaving the band in the waiting area, the others confronted Thorne.</p><p>“What the hell happened to him?” Zeke asked.. “Was there a bar fight or something?”</p><p>Thorne didn’t answer. He looked down at his hands, feeling ashamed and guilty about what had happened. John was hurt because of him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When John woke up, he felt woozy and his vision was blurry. He groaned as harsh fluorescent lighting burned his eyes and closed them quickly, shaking his head a little. There was something rough and heavy resting across his chest, something soft under his head.</p>
<p>“I think he’s waking up,” someone said. Was that Zeke?</p>
<p>John opened his eyes again, his vision less blurry. He was laying in bed, staring up at a plain ceiling, a medicinal smell burning his nose. He looked to his left and saw an IV hooked up to his arm, feeding some kind of liquid into it. A monitor next to that showed his heart rate and blood pressure. He looked down at himself, realizing that he was still fully dressed, thankfully, and that his right hand was wrapped in a plaster cast that extended to his elbow, three of his fingers covered by the plaster, a strap behind his neck holding it in place.</p>
<p>“John, mate,” a familiar voice said. “Can you hear me?”</p>
<p>John looked up and into David’s face. He was standing over the bed, his green eyes concerned. Zeke, Michael, Jason, and Trixie were in the room too, near the wall by the door. Thorne was nowhere to be seen. David was looking at John expectedly, waiting for an answer.</p>
<p>“I can hear you,” John replied, his voice hoarse. </p>
<p>The guys and Trixie all sighed in relief. David smiled and gripped the bassist’s shoulder. </p>
<p>“You made it, bud,” he said. </p>
<p>John nodded, his memory a little hazy. He furrowed his brow, trying to remember. He stared at his cast and felt the memories rushing back. Thorne was being accosted by some dick at the club. He’d almost been raped. John had stopped him, but took a serious beating in the process. He remembered being brought to the hospital, being instructed by a nurse to take deep breaths as she put a mask over his face. Then everything went dark.</p>
<p>“Do you remember anything?” Jason asked, bringing John out of his thoughts.</p>
<p>He looked up from his cast and nodded. He shifted in bed, trying to sit up, but David put a hand on his shoulder, stilling him.</p>
<p>“Relax, John, relax,” he said. “You’re still coming out of the anesthesia.”</p>
<p>“I’ll go find the doctor,” Michael said, leaving the room.</p>
<p>John laid back in bed, licking his dry lips. He looked up at David.</p>
<p>“Water?” he asked.<br/>
</p>
<p>David poured some into a cup from a pitcher on the table and handed it to him. John took it in his left hand and sipped it, sighing in relief. He placed the cup aside and ran his good hand through his hair.</p>
<p>“Where’s Thorne?” he asked.</p>
<p>“He’s right here-” Zeke started to answer, turning around. He cursed. “Damn it.”</p>
<p>He left the room and vanished out into the hallway. John could hear him arguing with someone for a minute before he came back in, dragging Thorne by his arm like a child. The rock star looked unharmed, though his eyeliner was a little smeared, his clothes rumpled from the fight. He jerked his arm out of Zeke’s grip and crossed them over his chest, staring at the ground.</p>
<p>“He’s been acting like that since we got here,” David explained to John. “He won’t tell us what happened.” He looked at John. “Do you know what happened?”</p>
<p>John stayed silent, his eyes on Thorne. The rock star glanced up at him from the floor, his blue eyes red-rimmed. John knew what happened, but he didn’t want Thorne to be embarrassed, or for the guys to give him crap for what had happened. Despite everything and his own feelings, John still wanted to be friends with him, protect him.</p>
<p>“There was a bar fight,” he told David. “Some guys got a little crazy and then all hell broke loose. I got caught in the middle of it and got dragged outside. That’s all.”</p>
<p>The band all shook their heads and sighed. John looked at Thorne again. His eyes were wide and puzzled. He opened his mouth to speak, but then Michael came back into the room with a young woman in a white coat, her hair pulled back in a ponytail.</p>
<p>“John, welcome back,” she said. “I’m Dr. Hayes. How do you feel?”</p>
<p>“Groggy,” John replied. “But not in pain like I expected.”</p>
<p>Dr. Hayes smiled. “That’s the power of morphine. You were pretty banged up when you came in.” She stepped closer to his bed and put a hand on the railing of his bed. “Three of your fingers are broken, but you didn’t need surgery luckily. You’ll have to keep that cast on for three to four weeks.”</p>
<p>John looked down at his cast again, suddenly feeling guilty. That meant they would have to cancel weeks worth of shows. He sighed.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, mate,” Michael said, as if reading his thoughts. “We’ll tell the fans what happened and reschedule the shows once you’re better.”<br/>

</p><p>John managed a smile. He shifted in bed again and his shirt rode up slightly, revealing a multitude of bruises on his stomach and probably his chest. </p>
<p>“You took a hell of a beating,” Jason said, looking at bruises. </p>
<p>“None of your ribs are broken,” Dr. Hayes told John. “But you’ll have those bruises for a few weeks. We’ll discharge you in a couple hours with a script for pain medicine. Just rest up for a while and soon you’ll be good as new.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Doctor,” John said.</p>
<p>She smiled and left the room. A few hours later, John was in a wheelchair, pushed by a nurse, on the way out of the hospital. Trixie had brought the bus around to front and had the doors open. The band had stayed in the hospital until John was discharged and were now walking alongside him. Thorne hung back, hands in his pockets, uncharastically quiet. John was concerned but also extremely tired and didn’t have the energy to talk to him more. </p>
<p>“Let’s get back to the hotel,” Jason said as they boarded the bus one by one. “I’ll let the fans know what happened in the morning.”</p>
<p>John slowly stood up out of the wheelchair, wincing a little at the pain in his torso, lancing up to his chest. He approached the steps of the bus and stumbled a little as he tried to go up them.</p>
<p>“Easy, John,” Thorne said, speaking for the first time. “Let me help you.”</p>
<p>John leaned against the singer, noticing the way the others were staring at them as they entered the bus. Thorne led John over to his bunk, easing him to sit down onto it. John kicked off his boots and laid back, clumsily pulling the covers up to his waist. He closed his eyes and instantly began to drift off to sleep as the bus began to move.</p>
<p>“Shouldn’t he take some of his meds?” He heard Michael ask.</p>
<p>“Let him sleep,” Thorne said. “He needs that more than his meds right now.”</p>
<p>John fell asleep before he could hear anyone say anything else.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thorne hovered over John’s bunk, watching him sleep. His left cheekbone was bruised purple, his lower lip cut and scabbed over, dried blood still caked under his nostrils. His right arm, bound in a cast and a sling, was slung over his chest, his breathing sounding even despite his injuries. He looked like hell. Thorne resisted the urge to reach out and touch the bassist’s face, instead reaching out and closing the privacy curtain across the bunk.</p><p>“Are you okay, Thorne?” David asked. </p><p>Thorne looked over at his bandmates and Jason, gathered around the table. They were all staring at him. The singer willed himself not to blush and ran a hand through his hair.</p><p>“I’m fine,” he told them. “Just tired.”</p><p>“You should get some sleep, mate,” Michael said. “We’ll take turns keeping an eye on John until we get to the hotel.”</p><p>Thorne nodded and slinked off into his room, closing and locking the door behind him. He sat down on his bed and sighed, putting his head in his hands. His mind swirled with a variety of thoughts and emotions. Why did John save him? Why didn’t he tell the guys the truth about what happened?</p><p>‘I appreciate that he saved me,’ Thorne thought. ‘Even though he’s been acting weird around me since London.’</p><p>He still couldn’t remember anything from that night. John didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Even though he’d told Thorne that it had nothing to do with him, the rock star felt like the bassist was lying. Thorne just didn’t know or understand why. He laid back in bed and put his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He was grateful that John hadn’t told the band what had happened in the bar, but still felt guilty about what had happened.</p><p>‘His fingers might be screwed up forever because of me,’ Thorne thought guiltily. ‘That dick could’ve had a knife or a gun. Why did John just rush in and save me?’</p><p>He would never forget the scream that had left John’s lips when the Dumpster lid was brought down onto his fingers. Thorne looked down at his shirt, spotted red in some places by John’s blood. The sight made the singer queasy and he quickly looked away from the stains. At some point, he must have fallen asleep because the next thing Thorne knew, Jason was knocking at  his door.</p><p>“Thorne, we’re at the hotel,” he said. “Come on.”</p><p>Thorne sat up in bed and exited the room. Jason nodded to him and left the bus. Michael and David were already gone, but Zeke was still there. The curtain on John’s bunk was still closed, and Thorne could still hear his breathing on the other side.</p><p>“He’s still pretty out of it,” Zeke said, coming over. “We let him sleep for awhile but I think we should wake him up and get him to his room.”</p><p>“I’ll do it,” Thorne said. “You go ahead inside.”</p><p>Zeke arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”</p><p>Thorne nodded. The drummer eyed him a minute longer before gathering his things and leaving the bus. Thorne pushed the curtain on John’s bunk aside, revealing the sleeping bassist. He was still in the same position as before, on his back with his bound arm across his chest, his head turned away from Thorne. The rock star reached out, shaking John’s shoulder lightly.</p><p>“John, wake up,” he said. “We’re at the hotel, mate.”</p><p>John grunted and shifted in the bunk, turning his head, eyes fluttering open slowly. He squinted at Thorne.</p><p>“What’s it?” he asked.</p><p>“We’re at the hotel,” Thorne repeated. “I’ll help you to your room.”</p><p>John sighed but reluctantly got up from his bunk, running his good hand over his beard. He seemed steadier than he’d been before, but Thorne walked close to him just in case as they entered the hotel and took the elevator up to the third floor and to John’s room. He unlocked it with his room key and stepped inside, Thorne following him. The bassist sighed and sat down on his bed, immediately laying down again on his back.</p><p>“Hold on, John,” Thorne said. “You should take some of the meds the doc gave you.”</p><p>John grunted. “Fine.”</p><p>He sat up again and accepted two pills from the bottle Thorne had opened, swallowing them down with some water from a bottle on the nightstand. He swallowed and laid down again, sighing. Thorne wanted so desperately to ask him why he’d stepped in, why he’d lied to the guys.</p><p>“Want to sign my cast?” John asked suddenly.</p><p>Thorne looked up from where he’d been staring at the floor. “What?”</p><p>John sat up again, gesturing to his bound arm. “Want to be the first one to sign my cast?”</p><p>Thorne smiled. “Sure.”</p><p>He opened a drawer in the nightstand and found a red Sharpie. He took the cap off while John offered his cast to him. He held still as Thorne scribbled his signature across the plaster.</p><p>“There,” he said, capping the Sharpie. “Your autograph.”</p><p>John laughed. “Thanks. I can sell it online after the docs remove it.”</p><p>Thorne laughed too, but his guilt suddenly clouded in again. He sighed and rubbed his neck. John laid back in bed, putting his good arm under his head. He closed his eyes and within minutes he was asleep again, his chest rising and falling steadily. He looked peaceful, so much so that Thorne thought it best not to disturb him. He stood up and crept out of the room and across the hall into his own, flopping down onto the bed with a groan, scrubbing his hands across his face.</p><p>He hadn’t felt this guilty since his divorce. But this guilt felt different. It somehow felt more personal, more raw. John had been physically hurt because of Thorne’s inability to keep it in his pants. He shuddered as he remembered the man pinning him to the wall, his hot breath and slimy kisses against Thorne’s neck. </p><p>“We both know you’re a slut,” the man had growled. “You want this.”</p><p>Thorne shook his head to dismiss the memory. He quickly left the bed and poured himself a drink from the mini-bar, downing it quickly. Then he washed his eyeliner off, rinsed the product out of his hair, changed his clothes and got into bed. It took Thorne a long time to fall asleep despite how late it was. A single question kept floating around in his mind like a leaf on water.</p><p>‘Why did John save me?’ Thorne thought.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John was in his hotel room, stretched out across the couch and sleeping off his pain meds when the door opened. He didn’t stir, thinking that maybe it was just housekeeping, until someone switched on the lamp next to the couch. John grumbled at the light and threw his good arm over his eyes.</p><p>“Why did you do it?” Thorne asked.</p><p>Surprised, John lowered his arm and sat up a little on the couch. Thorne was standing in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. He wore tight jeans and a black V-neck shirt, his dark hair styled as usual, his eyes expertly lined with liner. He was swaying on his feet a little, and John could smell the alcohol on him. It had been three days since the incident at the bar, and it was the first time Thorne had actually come to see John since he’d gotten out of the hospital.</p><p>The first night he’d helped John to his room and signed his cast, but after that he’d begun avoiding John like the plague. He stayed in his room, blaring music or practicing singing. The others tried to speak to him, but Thorne was aloof, quiet. He’d also stopped going out to bars and bringing people back to the hotel to sleep with. He continued to drink though, and John could tell that the only reason Thorne was in his room now was because he’d downed some liquid courage before coming.</p><p>“Do what?” John asked, swinging his legs to the floor and adjusting his sling. </p><p>The cast now had the signatures of the others, Jason and Trixie included. His fingers didn’t hurt that much, thanks to the medicine, but his face and torso were another story. His chest and stomach were littered with a colorful array of bruises, his cheekbone still purple, his lip still scabbed over. </p><p>“You know what,” Thorne said. “Why did you save me that night at the bar?”</p><p>John snorted and stood up from the couch. “Did you really think I was just going to stand by and let you get hurt?”</p><p>He walked over to the room’s kitchenette while Thorne scoffed. John opened the mini-fridge and took out a bottle of soda, using his teeth to remove the cap. He sipped it as Thorne walked over and leaned against the counter.</p><p>“But you got hurt,” he said. “And it could’ve been a lot worse! That asshole could’ve had a weapon! He could’ve killed you!”</p><p>John slapped the soda down onto the counter. “And he would’ve raped you if I hadn’t stepped in! You were in danger, Thorne. What the hell else was I supposed to do?”</p><p>Thorne growled and stormed away a few feet, running his hands through his hair. John watched him pace, noting the way his hands were shaking.</p><p>“You could’ve gotten help,’ Thorne said finally, ceasing his pacing. “You could’ve done anything except what you did.”</p><p>“Why?” John asked. “Why wouldn’t I help you? Any of the other guys would’ve done the same thing. What’s this really about, Thorne?”</p><p>“I don’t know!” the rock star shouted. “I don’t know what’s going on anymore! You’d been acting weird around me since London, but you wouldn’t tell me why! What happened that night that you’re not telling me?”</p><p>“Nothing,” John snapped. “It doesn’t matter what happened that night in London, alright? It’s water under the bridge.”</p><p>He moved from the kitchen and brushed past Thorne toward the window overlooking the city. He could feel Thorne’s eyes burning holes into his back.</p><p>“John, tell me what’s been going on,” Thorne demanded. “Why did you intervene that night? Why have you been acting weird since London?”</p><p>“Because I love you, you idiot!” John yelled, whipping around to face the singer dead-on. </p><p>Thorne’s blue eyes were wide with shock, his mouth hanging open. John groaned and raked his hand through his hair.</p><p>“I love you, Thorne,” he said. “I think I’ve loved you since that night we spent together in Aberdeen. But when you asked me what my name was, and when you told me that you didn’t do repeat performances, it hurt me. More than it should. I almost didn’t show up for the auditions that day because I was afraid to see you again, but I’d always wanted to be part of a band, so I thought that as long as I just kept myself at a reasonable distance from you, I could ignore my feelings.” John paused, biting his cut lip and drawing blood again. “But after our first gig in London, I told the guys to go back to the hotel and went into the bar to find you. You were really drunk and giving body shots to people, and when I showed up you said you’d only leave if I did a body shot off of you.”</p><p>Thorne’s face turned a bright red and shuffled his feet, rubbing his neck. “Did you?” His voice was quiet.</p><p>John blushed as well. “Yes. I brought you back to the hotel and to your room, and you kissed me, said that you had wanted to since I joined the band. We….made out for a few minutes before I pulled back. I said we shouldn’t continue, and you said that you knew I wanted you, and that you wanted me. I wanted to continue, but left the room and let you sleep it off.” He stopped again. “The next morning, when I asked if you remembered anything, and you said that you didn’t, it hurt me more than I expected it to.”</p><p>Silence hung heavy in the air between the two men. Thorne’s face was still red, his eyes still wide. John rubbed his cast anxiously, his face feeling like it going to melt. Finally, after several excruciating minutes, Thorne spoke first.</p><p>“You….love me?” he asked, his voice a whisper.</p><p>“Yes,” John answered. “I love you, Thorne Jamison.”</p><p>He stepped closer to the singer, but Thorne backed away, almost like he was afraid. His hands were shaking and he stuck them into his pockets.</p><p>“Y-you can’t love me,” he said. “You-you just can’t.”</p><p>John arched an eyebrow. “Why?” His heart was racing. </p><p>“My-my wife loved me,” Thorne said, backing away more. “I-I loved her, but I destroyed our marriage, our love. I can’t go through that again.”</p><p>“Thorne,” John said softly. He took another step toward the rock star, who backed away again. </p><p>“Get out,” Thorne said, his voice catching in his throat. </p><p>John’s heart froze in his chest. “W-what?”</p><p>“Get out,” Thorne repeated with more conviction. “I can’t work with you like this.”</p><p>“Like this?” John sputtered incredulously. “What the fuck does that mean? You’re kicking me out of the band because I love you?”</p><p>“I don’t do love,” Thorne snapped. “I can’t tour with you if you’re just to drool over me with heart eyes and twittering birds flying around your head!”</p><p>John’s eyes welled with tears. “You’re not even giving me a chance! You can’t even give us a chance?”</p><p>“There is no us!” Thorne shouted. “There never was! I believed in love once, and it ended and it hurt! I’m not going through that again!”</p><p>Tears flowed down John’s cheeks as he grabbed his guitar case and strapped it over his shoulder, then grabbed his suitcase off the floor, still unpacked. He jerked open the door and spared a glance at Thorne. He was crying too, eyeliner leaving black tracks down his face.</p><p>“You’re a coward, Thorne,” John said. “You can’t just run away from love, or hide behind booze and random sex because you’re scared to be open with someone.”</p><p>“Watch me,” Thorne said, turning his back on the bassist.</p><p>John sniffled and left the room, slamming the door behind him. He stormed down the hall and nearly ran into Zeke and Michael at the elevator.</p><p>“John, mate, what’s wrong?” Zeke asked. “Where are you going?”</p><p>“I’m leaving,” John said. “I’m having Trixie drive me to the nearest train station and I’m going back to Scotland.”</p><p>“What?” Michael asked. “Why?”</p><p>John shook his head and pushed past his former bandmates into the elevator, hitting the button to take him down to the lobby. He checked out at the front desk and headed outside, finding the tour bus in its reserved space near the entrance.</p><p>“John, what’s wrong?” Trixie asked when she saw him. “What happened?”</p><p>“I’m leaving,” John replied. “Can you drive me to the nearest train station?”</p><p>Trixie looked like she wanted to protest, but instead she nodded. John sat down on his bunk as the bus began to move. He wiped at the tears still streaming down his cheeks and licked his bloody lip. Once again his sensitive nature had caused him to have his heart broken. Why did he have to fall in love with someone who was afraid of it?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What the fuck, Thorne?” Zeke snapped. “Why did you kick John out of the band?”</p><p>Thorne tossed back his glass of Scotch and slammed the glass down onto the table. He had his back to his bandmates and Jason, not having the courage to face them with his eyes still red-rimmed from crying. </p><p>“It just wasn’t working out,” he told them. “It was for the best.”</p><p>“That’s bullshit!” Michael said. “John was the best bass player we had! The fans love him!”</p><p>“We can find a new bass player,” Thorne replied, pouring himself another drink. “One that doesn’t have three broken fingers.”  ‘Or is in love with me,’ he thought, downing his drink.</p><p>“You kicked him out because he has broken fingers?” David asked. “How is that his fault? He was in a bar fight. It was an accident.”</p><p>Thorne snorted and walked toward the window, staring out of it, his argument with John still fresh in his mind. He couldn’t believe that John was in love with him. How the fuck had that happened? Thorne knew he was loved by his fans, but there was a big difference between being loved and being in love. Being in love was a team effort, and Thorne wasn’t sure he was capable of loving someone else.</p><p>‘Thanks for those traits, Dad,’ he thought bitterly.</p><p>“Thorne!” Jason exclaimed, snapping his fingers next to the rock star’s ear.</p><p>“What?” he snapped. “Why are you guys still here?”</p><p>“We’re not leaving until you fess up,” Jason said, crossing his arms. “You and John have been acting differently. John’s been weird since that night he brought you back from the bar in London, and you’ve been weird since he got hurt in Wales. What really happened between you two?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Thorne insisted irritably. “Leave me alone, alright?”</p><p>He reached for the bottle of Scotch he’d been emptying since John left, but David grabbed it before he could. </p><p>“Talk, Thorne,” he said. “Or I pour the rest of this down the drain.”</p><p>Thorne gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. He willed himself not to cry as he said, “John wasn’t in a bar fight. He got hurt because of me.” His voice cracked.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Jason asked. </p><p>Thorne licked his dry lips. “I was….almost raped by this guy in an alley that night. John intervened and I got away. That’s what happened to him. He lied to protect me, I think.”</p><p>His bandmates were silent. David set the bottle back down on the table, his face twisted in shock. </p><p>“So that’s why you’ve been acting so weird,” he said. “You felt guilty about John getting hurt.”</p><p>Sometimes Thorne wished David wasn’t so smart, but the guy had degrees in psychology as well music. </p><p>“That’s not a good reason to kick him out of the band,” Zeke said. “There’s something else you’re not telling us, Thorne.”</p><p>“The rest of it isn’t any of your business,” Thorne retorted. “Now for the last time. Leave me alone.”</p><p>He walked away from the window, grabbing the bottle of Scotch on his way. He sat down on the couch and poured himself another glass. His body felt warm and tingly, his head getting hazy.</p><p>“Thorne, for God’s sake, stop drinking and talk to us,” Michael pressed. “Why did you kick John out of the band?”</p><p>Thorne’s temper, already frayed from his argument with John, snapped. He jumped up from the couch and faced his bandmates and manager.</p><p>“Would you guys just fuck off?” he yelled. “I’m the lead singer in this band! I can kick out whoever I want to!”</p><p>“Not without consulting us first,” Jason intervened. “We’re a family, Thorne. We stick together, remember?”</p><p>Thorne snorted and raked his fingers through his hair. “We’re not a family. You all have families! Wives, husbands, kids, a girlfriend. What do I have? Nothing!”</p><p>“You had John,” Michael said. </p><p>Thorne froze and looked the Welshman in the eye. “What?”</p><p>“John was in love with you,” Michael said. “That’s why he’s been defending you and picking your drunk arse up from clubs and stuff.”<br/>

</p>

<p>“I put the pieces together,” Michael replied with a shrug. “John was always there for you, picking you up from places, going with you to clubs because the rest of us didn’t want to.” He paused. “That’s why you kicked him out, isn’t it?”</p><p>Thorne stared at the floor, not answering. The guys were silent again.</p><p>“So you kicked him out because he loves you?” David asked. “What kind of stupid logic is that?” He studied Thorne for a second. “You love him too, don’t you?”</p><p>Thorne remained silent. He felt angry and exposed, like an open wound. </p><p>“This is ridiculous,” Zeke grumbled. “You fired John because you’re too much of a coward to love someone again?”</p><p>“What did you say?” Thorne snapped his eyes back up from the floor.</p><p>“I said that you’re a coward,” Zeke repeated. “Afraid to share yourself with someone else, to be open again.”</p><p>“Shut up,” Thorne warned, clenching his fists. </p><p>“Thorne, love is scary and messy and complicated, but you shouldn’t live your life being afraid of it,” Zeke said. “Couldn’t you at least have given John a chance?”</p><p>“I said shut up!” Thorne snapped. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”</p><p>“Thorne, man up, for fuck’s sake!” Zeke exclaimed. “Are you so fucked up after your divorce that your ability to love has been destroyed?”</p><p>Thorne’s anger flared again. He leaped over the back of the couch and punched Zeke right in the jaw. The drummer stumbled back and into the wall while the others all yelled in shock. Zeke touched his swelling lip, beads of blood welling up along it, his eyes bright, his fiery temper making a rare appearance.</p><p>“Son of a bitch!” he snarled, lunging at Thorne, knocking him to the floor and punching him square in the mouth.</p><p>Thorne tasted blood as his head snapped back against the floor. Zeke’s next blows caught him in the throat and then in the head, making him see stars. It took the strength of David, Michael, and Jason to pull Zeke off of him.</p><p>“Easy, man, easy,” David said, holding the drummer back by his shoulders.</p><p>Michael offered Thorne a hand up off the floor, but the rock star knocked it away and stood up slowly, his head spinning. </p><p>“I’m done with you, Thorne,” Zeke spat as the guys let him go. “Have a nice life.”</p><p>The drummer stormed out of the hotel room, slamming the door behind him. David and Michael and Jason lingered for a minute, but then they left too.</p><p>“Fine, go!” Thorne shouted after them, spitting blood onto the floor. “I don’t need you guys! I’ll start a new band! Hell, maybe I’ll even go solo!”</p><p>He walked into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. Blood was oozing his mouth and nose, bruises already beginning to form on his neck and his head was throbbing. He could hear echoes of his parents arguing in his mind, along with his fight with John.</p><p>“I love you, you idiot!” John had snapped. </p><p>Thorne winced, his heart racing. He punched the mirror, shards shattering and spilling onto the floor. Tears leaked from his eyes as he left the bathroom and grabbed the bottle of Scotch off the table, drinking the rest of it down quickly. In this moment he was the spitting image of his father, drunk and fresh from having the crap beaten out of him, going on a rampage in his hotel room.</p><p>‘John loves me,’ Thorne  thought, anxiously picking at his painted nails. ‘Do I love him?’</p><p>Even as he thought it, Thorne knew it was true. He loved John. He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen for the bassist, but it had happened nonetheless. But Thorne was scared. He ruined love. He’d ruined his marriage and he’d ruin John too. He was so sweet and sensitive and kind. Thorne would burn him like a wildfire in a dry brush. Head spinning, the rock star reached for his bottle of sleeping pills, popping the cap and downing two of them, throwing himself down onto his bed.</p><p>He closed his eyes, but felt like he’d only been asleep a few minutes before he jolted awake, his stomach churning before he vomited. His throat burned, his vision blurring as he fell off the bed, his muscles feeling like rubber. He coughed, feeling like he couldn’t breathe as his throat became clogged with vomit. </p><p>‘Like father, like son,’ Thorne thought, eyes closing again as everything went dark and quiet and still.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John placed his journal aside and sighed, sitting up on his bunk. With his broken fingers he couldn’t write more, couldn’t finish the song he’d been writing. He still had a few more lyrics he wanted to add. He scrubbed his good hand across his face and stood up, cracking his back and neck loudly. The clock showed that only twenty five minutes had passed since he’d left the hotel, and the nearest train station was still another forty five minutes away. </p><p>John sighed again, knowing that because there was no direct route to Scotland from Wales, he would have to take a train that would have stops along the way. It was going to be a long and lonely trip. He walked away from the bunks and paced the length of the bus, stretching his legs. He felt horrible about what had happened between him and Thorne, and wasn't sure he’d made the right choice by leaving, but Thorne couldn’t be dealt with anymore. Not by John.</p><p>‘Maybe the guys can help him,’ John thought. ‘They’ve known him longer than I have.’</p><p>He’d reached the front end of the bus, near the partition that separated the main room from the driver. He could hear Trixie talking to someone. Was she on the phone?</p><p>“Thorne’s a mess, love,” she was saying as John inched closer. “He’s been that way since me and Jason met him after his divorce.” She sighed. “I worry about him a lot. I really thought John was going to help the poor lad.”</p><p>John inhaled sharply and stepped back from the door, but Trixie had heard him anyway.</p><p>“John, is that you?” she asked. “I know it’s you, boy.”</p><p>The bassist sighed and slid open the door, sheepishly tucking his hand into his pocket. Trixie eyed him from the side. She wore a cream-colored blouse and black slacks, her long brown hair graying and tied back in a braid that trailed down her back. Her painted nails flashed as she gripped the steering wheel.</p><p>“Sit down, John,” she said, gesturing to the passenger seat. </p><p>John obeyed and sat down, rubbing his cast. Trixie looked older than the rest of the band, early or late fifties, he thought, her blue eyes lined with laugh lines. With her makeup and Scottish accent, she reminded John of his grandmother.</p><p>“I wasn’t eavesdropping Trixie,” he told her. “I was just stretching my legs when I heard you talking.”</p><p>“It’s alright, lad,” she replied. “I don’t mind. And neither does Margaret.”</p><p>“Who’s Margaret?” John asked.</p><p>Trixie nodded her head toward the dashboard. John looked and saw a lamented photo of a woman sitting there. She looked young, with curly hair and a bright smile, wearing a yellow sundress and flip flops as she lounged on a bench, the ocean in the backdrop.</p><p>“She’s pretty,” John said. “Is she your sister?”</p><p>Trixie chuckled. “No. She’s my wife.”</p><p>John raised his eyebrows. “Really?”</p><p>She raised her left hand, showing off the silver band on her ring finger. She also had a tattoo on her wrist, revealed by her sleeve slipping down. It looked like a butterfly or ladybug.</p><p>“How long have you been married?” John asked.</p><p>“We were together for ten years,” Trixie answered as she changed lanes.</p><p>“Were?” John’s brow furrowed. </p><p>“She passed away years ago,” Trixie explained. “Breast cancer.”</p><p>“Oh, my God,” John said. “I’m so sorry.”</p><p>Trixie smiled. “It’s alright. We were together for a long time before she got sick.”</p><p>She stopped at a red light, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. John shifted in his seat, studying the picture again. </p><p>“You were talking to her picture?” he asked Trixie. </p><p>“I know I may seem like a crazy old bird,” Trixie replied. “But talking to her picture makes more sense to me than going to church or her grave.”</p><p>As she said, the light turned green and she resumed driving. Something dangled from her right wrist. A Catholic rosary. </p><p>“You’re Catholic?” John asked, nodding at the holy symbol.</p><p>“I was more than a Catholic,” Trixie said. “I was a nun when I was younger.”</p><p>John’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”</p><p>Trixie laughed at his reaction. “Yes. Very serious. I joined the seminary when I was sixteen, after my parents passed away.”</p><p>“Did you meet Margaret at the seminary?” John asked, beyond intrigued now.</p><p>Trixie grinned. “I met her while I was a nun, but she wasn’t one. She was a wild child, drinking and smoking, the exact opposite of me and my sisters at the seminary in every way.”</p><p>“How did you meet then?” John asked. </p><p>Trixie sighed, her eyes sparkling. “After I joined the seminary, I thought I had everything I needed in life. I had food, clothes, a bed, a family. But there was something I was missing. Unlike many of my sisters, I didn’t join because I’d felt the Calling. I joined because I had nobody, nowhere to go after my parents passed away. I kept waiting to hear the Calling, but I never heard it. Then, one day, one of the sisters fell ill and I had to take her to the hospital.” She smiled. “That’s where I met Margaret. She was a patient on the same floor, being treated for a fractured arm she’d hurt surfing. She fascinated me. She was as funny and intelligent as she was beautiful.”</p><p>“She was different from the others,” John said. “That’s what attracted you, right?”</p><p>Trixie nodded. “Yes. I stayed with my sister at the hospital while she was treated, but every chance I got I went to go see Margaret. She was so different, and her life sounded much more exciting than mine. She lived her life the way she wanted, and didn’t care what others thought about her. When my sister got better, we returned to the seminary, but I was reluctant. I’d felt another calling. One of love. So I left and returned to Scotland to be with Margaret. She was waiting for me when I returned. We were together for all of our teen years, living together in a flat in Aberdeen. She proposed to me on my birthday, and we got married that same week, a secret ceremony with a friend of ours who was a priest.”</p><p>“That’s amazing,” John breathed. “It must have been hard when she passed away though.”</p><p>“It was,” Trixie admitted. “When she first got diagnosed, we had hope that  the radiation and chemo would be enough, but the cancer had already metastasized to her other organs, so there wasn’t much to be done except make her comfortable. Before she died, however, she made me promise her one thing.”</p><p>“What?” John asked.</p><p>“That I wouldn’t wallow in my grief.” Trixie took a right turn. “That I would grieve for her but move on with my life, find a career that I loved, something that fulfilled me.”</p><p>John propped his chin up on his hand. “And this fulfills you?”</p><p>Trixie shrugged. “I get to see the world and drive for hours on the open road. That’s a freedom that a lot of people take for granted.”</p><p>John smiled and scratched at his beard. “How did you meet Thorne?”</p><p>“I met Jason first,” Trixie answered. “He was looking for a driver and I was the first to call him on his offer. He hired me immediately after making sure that I’d no accidents or speeding tickets. He introduced me to Thorne a day later. He was still wounded from his divorce and used to tease me about being a nun. He was such an angry young man when we first met. But once he started this band, I thought he seemed better, less bitter.” She smiled at John. “And then he met you, and I really thought he was getting better.”</p><p>John blushed and looked away, rubbing his neck. “It’s not like that.”</p><p>“Don’t deny your heart, lad,” Trixie told him. “I know you love Thorne. And he loves you.”</p><p>“How do you know that?” John asked. </p><p>“I know you love him because of what you do for him,” Trixie said. “You are always there for him, picking him up from pubs, bringing him back in one piece, and saving him from getting hurt by having the tar beaten out of you.”</p><p>“How did you know that’s what happened?” John asked. “We never told the truth about what happened!”</p><p>“Margaret got hurt similar to you once. She beat up a man who groped me at a pub.”</p><p>John sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Well, as much as I love Thorne, I don’t think he loves me. Even if he does, I don’t think we should work together anymore.”</p><p>“That’s a shame,” Trixie said, shaking her head. “It was nice having you around, and to have someone around else to pick Thorne up out of his own vomit. Both physically and metaphorically of course.”</p><p>John remained silent, staring broodingly out the window. He knew that Thorne was damaged, but that wasn’t his fault. He’d been hurt more than he’d let on after his divorce, but was maintaining the tough, devil-may-care façade to avoid more pain. John had never been good at denying his feelings, his emotions. His mother used to say that he wore his heart on his sleeve. John wished he wasn’t so sensitive. It had caused problems all his life, but especially with Alex and Olivia.</p><p>‘I wanted to be a part of the baby’s life,’ he thought. ‘But just because I wanted to be a part of it, doesn’t mean I should be.’</p><p>He rubbed his cast again, glancing down at the signatures on them. Thorne’s stood out in bright red ink, his handwriting sharp and neat. John traced the signature, the shape of the letters, with the tip of his finger. He thought about all the good times he’d had with Thorne on the tour, even the drunken night in London. Thorne was talented and sexy and funny, but he was also in pain. He needed someone like John in his life, didn’t he? Someone to show him that just because love hadn’t worked out before didn’t mean that it was always going to be that way.</p><p>“Trixie,” John said.</p><p>She looked at him as she stopped at another red light. “What is it, John?”</p><p>“Turn around,” he replied. “Take me back to the hotel.”</p><p>Trixie smiled. “With pleasure.”</p><p> </p><p>Twenty five minutes later, John was hovering outside of Thorne’s hotel room, anxiously shuffling his feet. There was no noise coming from the other side, so he figured maybe Thorne was asleep. Or passed out drunk. John sighed and knocked on the door.</p><p>“Thorne?” he asked. “It’s John.” He bit his lip. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I didn’t mean to call you a coward.”</p><p>Silence. John sighed and tried again. “Thorne, come on. Please don’t shut me out. Can we just talk?”</p><p>There was still no answer. John placed his hand on the doorknob and found it unlocked. He pushed it open and entered the room. It was dark and quiet, almost eerily so. John felt around on the wall for a light and switched it on. He winced at the sudden brightness and blinked the spots from his eyes. </p><p>“Thorne?” he said. “Are you here, mate?”</p><p>John looked around and saw the empty bottle of Scotch on the table, but the most disturbing sight was the spot of blood on the carpet. What the hell happened? John left the living room and opened the door that led to the bedroom and bathroom. He switched the lights in there and found the mirror shattered on the bathroom floor. </p><p>“What the hell?” John whispered. </p><p>He turned his head and felt his heart drop like stone into the pit of his stomach. Thorne was laying on the floor beside the bed, not moving. John rushed over and knelt beside him, shaking him.</p><p>“Thorne, wake up,” he said. “Wake up, mate.”</p><p>The rock star didn’t stir. John rolled him over onto his back. Thorne’s face was pale and clammy, dried blood caked under his nose and oozing from his mouth. His lips were pale blue, his breathing there but almost inaudible. John looked from him to the bottle of pills on the floor beside the bed. He grabbed it and examined the label.</p><p>“Oh, my God,” he said.</p><p>John dropped the bottle and pulled his cellphone from his pocket, quickly calling for help. The paramedics arrived and quickly grabbed Thorne off the floor, hoisting him up onto a gurney. John followed them down the hallway and outside to the waiting ambulance. He watched as they attempted to get Thorne to breath, but it wasn’t working.</p><p>“His airway is blocked and his throat looks like it’s been hurt,” a medic said as they rushed into the hospital. “He’s barely getting air.”</p><p>“What does that mean?” John asked as he followed them. “Is he going to be okay?”</p><p>The paramedics passed Thorne off to a team of doctors and nurses, who wheeled him into a room quickly, lifted him off the gurney and placed him on a bed. A doctor took a light and shone it down Thorne’s throat, attempting to stick a tube down it. When that didn’t work, he told a nurse to get something called a trach kit.</p><p>“What are they doing to him?” John asked, trying to get into the room.</p><p>A nurse rushed over and held him back. “Your friend’s not getting enough oxygen and his airway is blocked so they can’t get an intubation tube down it. The doctor has to make a hole in his neck to clean his airway and let him breath.”</p><p>John watched in horror as the doctor used a scalpel to cut a hole into Thorne’s throat, then use a tube to suck something out of it. John was so unnerved that he looked away, especially when he heard that they had to pump Thorne’s stomach.</p><p>“Is he going to die?” John asked.</p><p>Before the nurse could answer, the doctor who had been working on Thorne suddenly stepped into the hallway. John looked at him, dread settling heavy in his belly.</p><p>“Is Thorne okay?” he asked.</p><p>“Yes, amazingly,” the doctor said. “We had to insert a trach tube to let him breath and pump his stomach to get the pills he took out of his system. He’s stable and he will be okay, but we’ll keep him here a few days for observation.” He patted John on the shoulder. “It’s a good thing you showed up when you did, sir.”</p><p>“Yeah,” John said.</p><p>The doctor and the nurse both nodded to him before going back into Thorne’s room, hooking him up to an IV and a monitor. John took his cellphone out of his pocket and started calling the guys. The only one who picked up was Michael.</p><p>“Is Thorne okay?” he asked when John told him what happened.</p><p>“The doc told me he’s stable,” John said. “He’ll be kept here for a few days for observation.”</p><p>“Jesus,” Michael breathed. “Thank God you came back, John.”</p><p>John snorted and hung up. He went into Thorne’s room and sat down in a chair nearby, watching his heartbeat on the monitor.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“He looks terrible,” Michael’s voice said. “What’s with that thing in his neck?”</p><p>“They said his airway was blocked and his throat had been damaged a little,” John’s voice replied. “They couldn’t intubate him so they cut a hole in his throat to let him breath and stuck that tube in there.”</p><p>Thorne grunted as he tried to open his eyes. The lids felt like they’d been glued shut as he forced them open. Bright white lights blinded him, piercing his eyes like hot needles. He groaned as his head pounded.</p><p>“He’s waking up,” David’s voice said. “Someone go get the doctor.”</p><p>Thorne heard someone leave the room and eased one eye open, then the other slowly. He found himself staring up at a brightly lit ceiling, the tiles blindingly white. He looked down at himself and found that he was laying in a hospital bed, tucked under the covers and wearing a blue gown. Where were his clothes? Thorne shifted in bed, feeling the IV needle in his right arm as he tried to move and get his bearings.</p><p>“Thorne?” John asked.</p><p>The rock star froze and looked up. John was standing at the end of his bed, wearing jeans and a leather jacket, his right arm still bound in a sling across his chest. Michael, David, Jason, and Trixie were in the room too, but Zeke was missing. Thorne was beyond confused and tried to speak, but found that he couldn’t and panicked, also feeling like he couldn’t breath.</p><p>“Thorne, relax,” John said, coming over to the side of the bed and placing his good hand on the rock star’s arm. “Relax, mate, okay? You’re in the hospital. You’re safe.”</p><p>Thorne stopped moving and looked into John’s brown eyes. They were gentle but full of concern. The rock star felt calm by looking into those orbs. He licked his dry lips and reached up to touch his neck, but John stopped him.</p><p>“Thorne,” he said slowly, “you had to have a procedure called tracheostomy to help you breath, because when the medics brought you here your throat was blocked and damaged and you were barely breathing.”</p><p>Thorne blinked. He had so many questions but no way to ask them. He mimed writing something with his hands. John handed him a pad of paper and a pen from the table beside the bed. Thorne took them and scribbled out his first message and showed it to John.</p><p>‘What happened?’ </p><p>“You don’t remember?” John asked, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>Thorne shook his head. The last thing he remembered was fighting with the guys and then going to bed, only to wake up puking and falling off the bed as he blacked out. </p><p>“I found you unconscious in your room,” John explained. “I called the paramedics and they brought you here last night. You’ve been asleep for a couple hours.”</p><p>Thorne was shocked, not just at being in the hospital but at the fact that John was here. He wrote another message.</p><p>‘You came back?’ </p><p>John nodded but blushed in that charmingly boyish way. “Yeah, I did.”</p><p>‘Why?’ Thorne wrote.</p><p>John opened his mouth to respond, but then Zeke came back into the room with a man in white coat in tow. Zeke’s bottom lip was still swollen from his and Thorne’s fight. The rock star blinked at the drummer, who stared back but didn’t say anything.</p><p>“Mr. Jamison, welcome back,” the man in the white coat said. “How do you feel?”</p><p>‘Tired and confused,’ Thorne wrote. ‘What exactly happened?’</p><p>“You were brought here last night with a blocked and damaged airway,” the doctor explained. “We couldn’t intubate you so we had to perform a tracheostomy to help your breathing.”</p><p>“What do you mean his throat was damaged?” Jason asked. “Is that cause it was blocked?”</p><p>“No, his vocal cords and larynx were bruised, and there was some obvious bruising on his throat,” the doctor answered. </p><p>Thorne thought back to his fight with Zeke. The drummer had hit him in the throat before the guys had pulled him off. He could tell from Zeke’s expression that he was thinking the same thing. The doctor continued.</p><p>“We also had to pump your stomach because your friend said that you’d overdosed on your sleeping pills. That’s what caused you to vomit and black out.”</p><p>Thorne’s brow furrowed. He’d overdosed? He thought he’d only taken two pills, but he’d been so trashed that night he probably didn’t know what he was doing. </p><p>“We don’t know how long you were unconscious, but it’s a good thing your friend showed up when he did,” the doctor told him.<br/>Thorne looked up at John, thinking, ‘Yeah, it was.’</p><p>“I’ll let you rest, Mr. Jamison,” the doctor said. “One of my nurses will be by in a bit to check on you and check your trach tube.”</p><p>He left the room and the others all sighed in unison. Jason came over to the bed and gripped Thorne’s shoulder.</p><p>“You son of a bitch,” he said with no malice. “You nearly gave us heart attacks.”</p><p>Thorne flipped to a new page and wrote out a message. ‘I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.’</p><p>“Don’t worry about it now, mate,” Michael said. “Just get some rest, eh?”</p><p>‘I thought you guys left,’ Thorne wrote. ‘What are you doing here?’</p><p>“John called all of us, but I was the only one who picked up,” Michael answered. “My flight had been delayed so I was still in the airport. After John told me what happened, I called the others.”</p><p>“David and I had just arrived in London when he called us,” Jason said. “We caught the next train back.”</p><p>“I got here this morning,” Zeke said. </p><p>Thorne looked at him and showed him his next message. ‘I’m sorry for hitting you and for the fight.’</p><p>Zeke smiled for the first time. “It’s okay, bruv. I shouldn’t have instigated you.”</p><p>Thorne smiled a little as well. Jason’s phone suddenly chirped. He took it out of his pocket and cursed as he examined the screen.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” John asked.</p><p>“Paparazzi are gathering outside the hospital,” Jason answered. “They know Thorne’s here. I’ll go get rid of them.”</p><p>“We’ll help you,” Michael said. He nodded at Thorne and John. “See you guys later, yeah?”</p><p>Both men nodded as Michael and Jason and others left the room. Trixie lingered for a moment though, smiling as she walked over to them. </p><p>“Welcome back, John,” she said, kissing his cheek. </p><p>“Thank you, Trixie,” he said.</p><p>She grinned and then looked at Thorne, kissing his forehead. “Get well soon, lad.”</p><p>She left the room, and Thorne and John were alone. John ran a hand through his hair, looking around the room. His eyes held a thousand questions. Thorne reached out and touched his cast, making the bassist look at him.</p><p>“Did you mean to overdose?” John asked. “Was that on purpose?”</p><p>‘No, it was an accident,’ Thorne scrawled. ‘I was drunk and had been fighting with Zeke and arguing with the others. I grabbed the bottle and I guess I thought I took two but took more. I woke up puking and then blacked out. That’s the last thing I remember.’</p><p>John looked relieved. “What were you fighting with the guys about?”</p><p>Thorne felt his face heat up. He had so many things he wanted to say to John, actually say to him, but those would have to wait until he could speak again. </p><p>‘They were angry that I’d kicked you out of the band,’ he wrote. ‘Then Zeke said some things and I snapped. We started fighting and David and the others had to pull him off me. They left that night.’</p><p>He stopped writing, setting the pad and pen aside. He suddenly felt embarrassed about so many things-his fight with John, with the band, ending up here. He looked away, noticing the scratches and bruises on his knuckles from the fight and punching the bathroom mirror.</p><p>“Are you okay?” John asked.</p><p>Thorne nodded and rubbed his eyes. He felt tired and drained. </p><p>“You should rest,” John told him. “You’ve been through a lot.”</p><p>Thorne nodded and laid back, closing his eyes. He heard John get up and walk across the room, followed by the clicking of a light switch. Thorne opened one eye and watched as John pulled the blinds over the windows and pulled the curtains around the bed, giving Thorne some privacy. The rock star fell asleep quickly, listening to the beeping of the monitor he was hooked up to and the sound of John humming quietly to himself. Thorne slept for a few more hours before a nurse came by, checking his vitals and his trach tube. </p><p>Thorne could tell that it was there now, but it didn’t feel as awkward to breath with it as before. He was still concerned about one thing, though, and wrote a message on his pad to show his doctor when he came by.</p><p>‘When will I be able to talk again? Sing again?’</p><p>“We’ll remove the tube tomorrow now that you can breath on your own,” the doctor answered. “But after that, you should refrain from talking for a few days, give your vocal cord and larynx time to heal. Also we advise you not to drink while you recover. Alcohol will irritate the wound as it heals.”</p><p>Thorne nodded, knowing that it was probably a good idea to avoid drinking for a lot of reasons. The next two days were a blur of tests and a quick procedure to remove the tube and wrap Thorne’s neck in some soft gauze to protect the wound. Jason and the others came by everyday, but John stayed at the hospital around the clock. Zeke and Michael came by with flowers and cards.</p><p>“My daughters made you this,” Zeke explained, placing the pink card on the table. It was covered in glitter and rainbows, smiling stick figures frolicking underneath a message that read ‘Get Well Soon’ in large letters. “The flowers are from my wife and me.”</p><p>Thorne smiled. Michael set another card on the table, this one covered in stickers shaped like guitars and music notes and rocketships. Mason, Michael’s son, had always loved the fact that his father was in a band and acted like Thorne and the others were gods. Jason was doing his best to keep the paparazzi at bay, but some reporters still lingered outside the hospital, asking questions about the canceled tour and plans to reschedule the concerts.</p><p>Later that afternoon, the doctor came by with good news.</p><p>“You can be discharged in an hour,” he announced. </p><p>Thorne smiled in relief. He was eager to be out of the hospital. But then the doctor’s expression changed, becoming troubled.</p><p>“Do you have some who can stay with you when you go home?” he asked Thorne. “We don’t like to send overdose recoveries home alone.”</p><p>Thorne could hear the underlying statement in that. Even though John had vouched for him and had said that he wasn’t suicidal, the doctor obviously didn’t think Thorne could handle being alone. In truth the rock star wasn’t sure he could either. The castle had been the one thing he’d managed to win in the divorce, but it was so large and empty. The idea of being there alone while he recovered was unnerving. He watched as Michael, David, Jason, and Zeke looked at each other. Thorne knew what they were thinking. They had families to think about. They couldn’t just drop everything and move in with Thorne to keep an eye on him.</p><p>“I’ll stay with him,” John said.</p><p>Thorne looked over at the bassist in shock. John was standing next to his bed, tapping his fingers on his cast. He looked down at Thorne.</p><p>“If you want me to, that is,” he added. “I’ll stay with you.”</p><p>Thorne smiled and reached out, placing his hand on John’s bound arm, hoping to convey his thanks through the touch. John seemed to get the message. </p><p>“You’re welcome,” he said.</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John walked down a long hallway, his footsteps echoing throughout the castle. He couldn’t believe the size of the place. Most rock stars he knew would’ve been okay with just a mansion in Los Angeles or a penthouse in New York, but Thorne had always been into the more indulgent things in life, and the castle was like a shrine to his stardom. Most of the rooms were furnished with expensive furniture and music-themed décor-records on the walls, posters of different rock stars and bands, it even had a recording area on the first floor. It was truly a place fit for a rock star. But hidden underneath the veneer of the place, John couldn’t help but find some of the rooms cold and impersonal.</p><p>Most of the rooms on the first floor were furnished with Thorne’s obvious flair, but the rest of them were cold and untouched, like a mausoleum. John knew that the castle was the one thing Thorne had managed to win in the divorce. He could only imagine how alone he must have felt living here after his wife left. John went downstairs into the living room, which was adjacent to the state-of-the-art kitchen and dining room. Thorne was stretched out on the black leather sofa, watching a talk show on the plasma screen mounted on the wall above an unlit fireplace. </p><p>John carefully approached, the wood floor turning to Persian rugs under his shoes. Thorne was curled up underneath a fleece blanket, using the armrest as a pillow, one arm under his head, the other hanging off the couch. His eyes were closed but his brow was furrowed, sweat shining on his face as he shifted in his sleep. The gauze on his throat was soaked; it would need changing soon. He’d been sleeping a lot since he and John had arrived at the castle from the hospital the other day. It was a side effect of his pain meds and the best way to stave off the worst of his alcohol withdrawal symptoms. The doctor had advised Thorne not to drink while his throat healed, and warned that his meds could be dangerous mixed with alcohol.</p><p>John had been prepared to help as much as he could, even with three broken fingers. The first thing he’d done was go throughout the castle and find any alcohol he could and pour it down the kitchen sink. Thorne, who still couldn’t talk, had sat on the counter beside the sink and watched as he did so.</p><p>“I’ve helped a few people with alcohol withdrawal in the past,” John had told him. “I know what to expect so I’ll be here to help you.”</p><p>Thorne managed a small smile, though he’d had a nervous look in his blue eyes. John had gotten good at reading Thorne’s facial expressions or just studying his mannerisms to know what the rock star was thinking or what he wanted to say. John now sat down on the sofa and touched Thorne’s shoulder lightly.</p><p>“Thorne, wake up,” he said gently. “We should change the gauze on your throat.”</p><p>The rock star groaned and flinched away from John’s touch, pulling the blanket over his head. John sighed patiently and lowered the blanket.. Thorne glared at him, his eyes bright, his black hair styled messily. </p><p>“Come on, Thorne,” John coaxed. “The sooner we change the gauze the sooner you can rest.”</p><p>The singer sighed through his nose and sat up, revealing his torso clad only in a blank tank top, his pale skin flushed and sweaty. John picked up the first-aid kit from the coffee table and flipped it open, removing a roll of bandages and some tape. Thorne unwound the binding on his throat and tossed it into the trash, then took the new strip from John, wrapping it carefully around his neck and using a small piece of tape to hold it in place. His hands were shaking as he drew the blanket over himself and laid back down again, curling up on his side.</p><p>“Do you need anything?” John asked. “Tea? A wet cloth?”</p><p>Thorne nodded, shivering as he curled up tighter. John left the room and went into the kitchen, which was full of sleek, expensive appliances and a color scheme of black, cream, and white. John prepared some tea, adding honey and some ginger. He then soaked a dish towel in cold water, wrung it out, and went back out to Thorne. The rock star was asleep again, but he was still sweating and shaking. John set the mug of tea down on the table and sat on the couch again, dabbing at Thorne’s face gently, wiping the sweat from his skin. </p><p>John still couldn’t believe that Thorne had let him stay at the castle, had even given him a room on the same floor. The bassist got the sense that Thorne didn’t have company over a lot these days. That explained how tense he’d seemed when they first arrived and he was showing John around the place. Jason and the others had called earlier that day, checking in from their homes. Jason, David, and Michael had returned to London while Zeke was in Ireland like Thorne and John. Trixie lived in Aberdeen and checked in with them as well. </p><p>John stopped his ministrations for a minute and laid the cloth against Thorne’s forehead. He looked more relaxed, his face less tense. He opened his eyes and rolled over onto his back, blinking as he scrubbed his hands across his face. They were no longer shaking.</p><p>“How do you feel?” John asked.</p><p>Thorne shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. He picked up the tea and sipped it slowly. John rubbed his cast. He and Thorne had so many things they needed to discuss, but those would have to wait until Thorne could speak properly. The rock star stopped drinking his tea for a second and set it back on the table, then picked up his cellphone, typing out a message and showing it to John.</p><p>‘The cabinet by the TV is full of DVDs. You can pick one if you want and we can watch it together,’</p><p>“That’s a good idea,” John said with a smile.</p><p>He got up and walked over to the large wooden cabinet beside the TV and opened it up. Sure enough it was full of DVDs of all sorts of genres-horror, action, sci-fi, romantic comedy, etc. John scanned the shelves for a few minutes before he selected a movie called ‘Roman Holiday.’ He’d always been a sucker for old movies. </p><p>“What do you think?” John asked, showing it to Thorne.</p><p>The rock star smiled in approval. John put the movie on and sat down again. Thorne sat next to him, the blanket in his lap as he sipped his tea. They watched movies all afternoon and into the evening, taking turns picking one out of the cabinet. John cooked dinner that night, best he could with only one arm, preparing tomato soup with bread. He figured it would be best for Thorne’s throat to stick with liquids and soft foods. After dinner they continued to watch movies, mostly sticking to romantic comedy.</p><p>“I didn’t take you for a rom com person,” John said to Thorne as they watched ‘Pretty Woman.’</p><p>The singer blushed. John chuckled, earning a glare from Thorne that had no heat in it. He typed out a message on his phone and showed it to John.</p><p>“Tell the guys and I’ll bloody kill you.’</p><p>John laughed. “My lips are sealed.”</p><p>Thorne smiled and wrote another message. ‘Thank you for staying with me, John.’</p><p>The bassist grinned. “You’re welcome, Thorne. Thank you for letting me.”</p><p>The singer licked his lips and touched his neck, rubbing it through the gauze. His eyes were troubled.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” John asked, pausing the movie.</p><p>Thorne hesitated for a second before typing out another message, only to stop and set his phone down on the table. His expression was anxious and troubled, like he had a thousand things on his mind. John knew that look.</p><p>“Thorne,” he said. </p><p>The singer glanced up at him. John scratched his beard and ran his hand through his hair.</p><p>“I know we have some things to discuss, but those can wait until you’re well again,” he said. “There’s no pressure.”</p><p>Thorne nodded in agreement and typed out a message. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I just have so many things I want to actually say to you.’ </p><p>“I know,” John murmured quietly. He slowly reached out and touched Thorne’s hand. “But get well first, yeah? Then we can talk, okay?”</p><p>Thorne looked down at their hands and interlaced their fingers. They resumed the movie and continued to watch. Eventually, the two of them fell asleep around two in the morning. John was laying on his back, Thorne cuddled on top of him, one of his hands resting on John’s cast, his head on the bassist’s shoulder. John wrapped his good arm around the rock star’s waist, holding him close as they slept.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thorne leaned closer to the bathroom mirror, examining the small scar on his throat. The wound had finally healed after three days, and it was a relief to be free of the gauze around his throat. The bruises from his fight with Zeke were gone too. The rock star sighed, rubbing his neck. It had been a week since his overdose, a week since he’d been discharged from the hospital and since John had moved into the castle to look after him. He had been nothing but a saint as well.</p><p>Thorne was in awe of that, knowing that he hadn’t been easy to deal with lately. When he wasn’t sleeping off his meds, his withdrawal symptoms had been brutal. Shakes, sweats, nausea, malaise, anxiety. John had been with him through it all, even during the nights spent downstairs on the couch, when Thorne couldn’t sleep in his room. John hadn’t left the castle once. When it was time to remove his cast now that his fingers had healed, he called a doctor and convinced them to come to the castle to remove it. Thorne had watched as the doctor had used a small circular saw to cut through the plaster. </p><p>“Finally,” John had breathed when his arm was free. “No more wrapping that thing in plastic so I can take a shower.”</p><p>He wriggled his fingers, wincing a little at the stiffness. There didn’t seem to be any permanent damage. Thorne sighed and left the bathroom, switching off the light. Now that his throat had healed, he needed to talk to John. He knew the first thing he wanted to say to the bassist. As soon as he found him, anyway. John hadn’t left his side from the beginning, but once Thorne’s withdrawal symptoms had eased away, he felt less guilty about letting Thorne have time alone. </p><p>“Just text me if you need me, okay?” John told him whenever he left the room.</p><p>Thorne walked down the third floor hallway, where his bedroom was as well as John’s. The other rooms were spare bedrooms and rooms that were simply unfurnished. Thorne wasn’t sure what to do with them. He spent most of his time on the ground floor anyway, where the game room, music room, and wine cellar were. Though he hadn’t had alcohol in two weeks, probably the longest he’d gone without a drink ever. Thorne started to head downstairs when he didn’t find John on the third floor, but then he heard the music-the faint strumming of an acoustic guitar.</p><p>Thorne stopped short of the stairs, following the sound down the hallway. It was coming from the room that his wife used to use to dress clients in their tailored clothes. Thorne hadn’t set foot in that room in a year. He took a deep breath and opened the door slowly. John was sitting on a worn ottoman in the center of the room, directly underneath a skylight. He wore blue jeans and a tank top, the muscles in his arms flexing as he strummed the sleek guitar he was holding. His hair was haloed by the afternoon sun, his pale skin glowing, highlighting his collarbones. Thorne leaned against the doorframe, absorbed in the sight before him.</p><p>John’s long fingers plucked the strings delicately, his handsome face tight with concentration. The song started out somber, but then moved to something hopeful and flirty. Thorne smiled during that part, but it faded as the song became sad and pensive. That’s where John stopped. He sighed and scratched his head before taking out a pen that had been tucked behind his ear, scribbling something down into the faded journal on his thigh. His brow was furrowed as he crossed something out. Thorne cleared his throat to get the man’s attention. John jumped and looked up, startled.</p><p>“Hey,” he said. “I didn’t see you there.” </p><p>Thorne smiled and entered the room, sitting down on another ottoman and pushing it closer to John’s. The Scot smiled and set his guitar and journal aside.</p><p>“I didn’t think I was allowed in here,” he said. “But it has the best acoustics then most of the rooms around here. Now that my fingers are healed I can finally continue to work on the song I’ve been writing.”</p><p>Thorne nodded, unsure whether to say what he wanted to say right then. John scratched his beard and continued. </p><p>“Are you okay?” he asked. “How’s your throat?”</p><p>Thorne gave him a thumbs-up. John smiled. His brown eyes sparkled and made Thorne’s heart race. Now or never. He placed his hand against his throat, over the scar, and took another deep breath.</p><p>“I love you,” Thorne said, his voice scratchy and hoarse. </p><p>John froze, eyes widening, his mouth falling open. “W-what did you just say?”</p><p>“I love you, John,” Thorne said, clearing his throat again, making his voice clearer. </p><p>John was silent. His eyes searched Thorne’s face. The rock star continued.</p><p>“I’m sorry for everything I said to you,” he said. “I’m sorry for pushing you away, for kicking you out of the band because, for reacting the way I did when you first told me you loved me. I didn’t mean any of it. I-I just didn’t think that I…” Thorne trailed off with a groan, unable to find the right words.</p><p>“Thorne, it’s alright,” John said, putting his hand on the singer’s shoulder. “You don’t have to explain.”</p><p>“Yeah, I do,” Thorne replied. “You deserve an explanation about why I’m fucked up.” He sighed, reaching for John’s hand and interlacing their fingers. “I guess my view on love changed before my divorce, because of my parents.”</p><p>“Your parents?” John asked. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“My dad was a rock star,” Thorne explained. “Well, actually he was more of a street artist with a band and a crappy van, but yeah. He met my mum because she was one of his groupies. She was barely out of her teens when they got married. They had me a few years later and she stayed home with me while Dad toured around. Mum pretended that it didn’t bother her as I got older, but I could tell that it did. She never said anything though, and always looked on the bright side of things. They didn’t start arguing until my dad cheated on her. The first time.”</p><p>“First time?” John asked. </p><p>Thorne nodded. “Yeah. He cheated on her all the time. She only found out because one of the girls called the house asking for him, but she answered. They started fighting then, over the phone mostly. Mum would yell at him, threaten to leave him if he didn’t sober up and get a real job. He would come home only every now again, drunk or high usually. They would fight then too. Sometimes I could hear them from my room. The weird thing was that even though they argued and had all this dysfunction, they never separated.”</p><p>“Why not?” John questioned. “Did they see a counselor?”</p><p>Thorne snorted. “Yeah, then my dad slept with her too. I asked my mum why she and Dad wouldn’t separate if they hated each other so much, but she kept reassuring me that they didn’t hate each other. They still loved each other and wanted to make things work. But then I heard Mum tell a friend one day that even though she couldn’t stand my dad, she didn’t want me growing up in a broken home. They stayed together for my sake.”</p><p>“Your mum sounds like a nice woman,” John said. </p><p>“She was,” Thorne agreed. “That’s why it was so hard when she passed away. I was sixteen.”</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Thorne,” John murmured softly. “What happened to her?”</p><p>“She had a stroke,” Thorne answered, his voice catching. “I found her in bed one morning and couldn’t wake her up. I called for help but it was too late.” He wiped at the tears welling up in his eyes. “My dad came home for her funeral, sober for once. He took me on the road with him after she died, and started drinking again. A lot. Drugs too. I spent half of my life cleaning him up or picking his arse up from a club or out of a gutter somewhere.” Thorne sighed. “I used to think he was a god when I was younger, but then I realized that my mum was right about him. He was just a drunk.”</p><p>John stroked Thorne’s knuckles with his thumb. “What happened to your dad?”</p><p>The rock star sighed, wiped more tears off his face. “He OD'd in his hotel room one night. I came into his room and found him on the floor, covered in vomit and frothing at the mouth. His bandmates tried to resuscitate him, but he was already gone. I was in my twenties when he died. I hate to say this, but I didn’t feel much grief when he died.”</p><p>“I can see why,” John said. </p><p>“After that, I swore that I wouldn’t make the same mistakes my dad made,” Thorne continued. “I told myself that when I met the perfect partner, I would treat them the way they deserved to be treated. I was determined not to be like my dad. When I met Serena…” It hurt to say her name. “I thought I’d met the perfect woman for me. But then, unlike my dad, I actually became a rock star and had all these fans and money. I started to indulge like I figured most rock stars do. I didn’t see the harm in it. I guess I didn’t realize how much my wife was hurting until she told me she wanted a divorce, after I cheated on her. I tried to do better, but I just couldn’t.”</p><p>Thorne stopped, his voice cracking. His vision was blurry with tears. John held his face gently in his hands and wiped his eyes with his thumbs.</p><p>“It hurt when your wife left you, didn’t it?” John asked.</p><p>Thorne nodded. “I tried to ignore the pain, numb myself to it. When I started this band, I saw it as a new beginning. I was determined to avoid falling in love again. It had hurt so much the first time when it didn’t work out, and I didn’t want to go through it again. So I just distanced myself from others, sticking to one stands to get sex and just move on.” He smiled. “But then I meet you, John. And you changed me. I fell in love with you.”</p><p>“When?” John asked, quietly. “I started falling for you the morning after the night in Aberdeen. That’s why it hurt so much when you didn’t remember my name the next day, when you told me you didn’t do repeat performances.”</p><p>“I’m not sure,” Thorne admitted. “I think maybe the night of our first concert together. You looked so bloody gorgeous that night. But it wasn’t just that. You’re kind and talented and funny. You were always there for me during the tour, putting up with me and my drunk antics. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I didn’t mean to. I was just so scared of getting hurt again.”</p><p>“It’s okay, Thorne,” John said quietly. “I understand now.”</p><p>He gently titled Thorne’s chin up and kissed him on the lips. Thorne sighed into the kiss, cupping the back of John’s head. The bassist caressed Thorne’s cheek, stroking the skin beneath his eye. When they broke apart, they pressed their foreheads together, staying silent until John spoke.<br/>“<br/>Thank you for telling me this, Thorne,” he said. “I know that wasn’t easy.” He licked his lips nervously. “I have something to tell you too.”</p><p>“What?” Thorne asked. </p><p>“I joined the band for two reasons,” John confessed. “Because I’d always wanted to be in one, and because I was running away.”</p><p>Thorne arched his eyebrows. “Running away from what?”</p><p>John ran a hand through his hair. “A couple years ago, I used to be the neighbor of this couple, two women named Alex and Olivia. They were so different from each other. Alex was a party girl and an artist while Olivia was a dedicated lawyer. They had a great relationship and had both agreed they didn’t want kids at first. But then Oliva changed her mind when she turned forty and started undergoing fertility treatments and insemination. Alex was angry and came over to my house during a party I was throwing. We were both really drunk, and well, one thing led to another.”</p><p>“You slept with her?” Thorne guessed. </p><p>John blushed but nodded. “She ended up pregnant at the same time Olivia was. I was excited honestly. I wanted to be involved with the baby, but Alex wasn’t sure that she could trust me. I tried to show that I was and eventually won her over, but…” John paused. “Things were complicated. Some people thought that she should marry me for the baby’s sake, but she didn’t want to leave Olivia. They loved each other still. Alex wasn’t in love with me but I loved her. I wanted to be there for them and for the baby. But things didn’t work out that way.”</p><p>“What happened?” Thorne asked gently.</p><p>“Alex had her baby first,” John said, his voice heavy. “I was in the hospital but she didn't want me in the delivery room with her. I’d told her that she could do what she wanted as long she let me be at least a little involved with the child. And during the first few weeks I was, but then I realized that just because I wanted to be a part of their lives didn’t mean I should be. After Olivia had her baby, she and Alex reconciled and moved into a bigger house to raise the kids, away from our neighborhood. I tried to be involved, but I wasn’t as much of a parent as I thought I was. I didn’t trust myself not to mess something up, and it still hurt me that Alex didn’t actually love me.” He sighed. “Course, that is mostly my fault.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Thorne questioned. </p><p>“I’ve always been sensitive, fell in love too easily,” John answered. “Got me teased when I was in school and caused a lot of heartbreak in my teenage years and so on. After Alex and Olivia left with the kids, I couldn’t stay in the neighborhood any longer. So when I saw your ad online looking for a bass player, I jumped at the chance. I packed my stuff and reached Aberdeen that same day. I was nervous about the audition though, so I went to the club that night to blow off some steam, ease my nerves.” He smiled at Thorne. “It would be my luck that you were there that night too, eh?” John stroked Thorne’s cheek again. “I was so nervous when I first saw you. I almost didn’t come up to you. But then you looked at me with those come-hither blue eyes of yours.”</p><p>Thorne laughed, leaning into John’s touch. “I like that you’re sensitive, John. Don’t ever change or let anyone make you feel bad about it, okay? I love you for you. I’m just sorry I didn’t realize it for so long.”</p><p>“It’s alright, love,” John said, drawing him into another kiss. </p><p>Thorne smiled at the pet name and wrapped his arms around John’s neck, stroking the nape lightly. John shifted on his ottoman, pulling Thorne onto his lap. His hands ghosted up Thorne’s sides, up his back, holding his waist. They made out for a few minutes before pulling away for air.</p><p>“What was that song you were playing?” Thorne asked. </p><p>“I started writing it in London, after our first concert,” John explained. “It’s called ‘Too Easy to Fall In Love.’  It’s about us.”</p><p>“It ended kinda sad,” Thorne said. “Why?”</p><p>“That’s how I felt for awhile,” John admitted sheepishly. :It hurt when you didn’t remember kissing me or anything else that night in London. I used it kind of as a timeline. The first half is how I felt before I met you, then when I first started falling for you. I’ve been stuck on the ending for a while, but I think I know how to fix it now.”</p><p>He grinned and kissed Thorne again. The rock star smiled and pulled John closer, their kisses becoming deeper, more passionate. John slipped off the ottoman and onto the floor, taking Thorne with him, but they didn’t separate. Eventually though, both men broke apart for air. Thorne looked down into John’s eyes, which had grown darker, his lips swelling and reddened from their kisses. </p><p>“Let’s go to my room, baby,” Thorne breathed. “I want you to make love to me. For real this time.”</p><p>“Okay,” John agreed. </p><p>They got up off the floor and left the room, kissing their way down the hall toward Thorne’s bedroom.</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John pressed Thorne’s back against the door, kissing him deeply, slotting his thigh between the rock star’s legs. Throne groaned, one hand gripping the back of John’s neck while the other fumbled around behind him, searching for the door handle. He found it and pushed the door open, pulling John inside and kicking it shut behind them, lips never ceasing contact. The room was large and spacious, furnished impeccably with lush carpet, leather couches facing an unlit fireplace underneath another plasma screen, records and guitars mounted on the walls. The bed was in the center of the room, facing the fireplace, a large four poster with grey silk sheets, black pillows and a dark purple comforter.</p><p>Thorne pulled John toward it, turning them and pushing the bassist onto the plush mattress. Their lips broke apart for a moment. Thorne’s eyes were dark with lust, his lips red and slick. John scooted further back up the bed, against the pillows. </p><p>“Come here,” he breathed to Thorne.</p><p>“Hold on,” Thorne replied reluctantly. “I want to set the mood.”</p><p>He walked toward the fireplace, added a few logs to it, then lit them with a box of matches on the mantle. Flames crackled to life, licking across the wood and throwing russet light and shadows across the room. Thorne nodded and came back over to the bed, his eyes dancing in the light, smiling. He crawled onto the bed slowly and settled into John’s lap again, kissing him gently. John wrapped his arms around the singer, holding his body flush against his. Thorne’s lips were warm and soft, and he tasted like coffee. John laid back against the bed, their bodies lining up perfectly, chest to chest, crotch to crotch, making them both groan into their kiss as their respective erections brushed against each other through their jeans.</p><p>Thorne moved his hips, grinding against John, coaxing a moan from the bassist’s throat. They made out for a long time, memorizing the taste of each other’s mouth, grinding against each other through their jeans. John caved first and pushed Thorne over onto his back, straddling the man’s waist. </p><p>“Fuck,” the rock star gasped at the new angle, his erection hard and leaking in his pants. </p><p>“We’ll get to that eventually, love,” John assured him. “But let’s make this last, yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Thorne agreed, sounding a tad breathless. He gripped the hem of John’s tank top. “Take this off, baby.”</p><p>John obeyed and tossed the garment to the floor. Thorne’s eyes became a touch darker as he roamed over his lover’s bare torso. John suddenly felt his face flush. It had been a long time since he’d been with anyone, and the last time he and Thorne had slept together, they’d both been wasted. No time to savor anything. And Thorne hadn’t slept with anyone since Wales. The last thing John wanted to do was make him uncomfortable.</p><p>“John?” Thorne reached up and stroked his cheek. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>“Nothing,” John answered, taking his hand and kissing his palm. “But just let me know if anything’s too much and I’ll stop, okay?”</p><p>Thorne nodded. John leaned down and kissed him again, slowly, taking the rock star’s lower lips between his teeth as he pulled away, eliciting a whine from him. John smirked and kissed down Thorne’s chin and jawline, traced his Adam’s apple with the tip of his tongue. He dug his teeth into the divot between Thorne’s neck and shoulder, worrying the flesh gently as a mark appeared, blossoming red against the pale skin. John’s nimble hands then crept up under Thorne’s shirt, stroking his quivering stomach gently as he pushed the fabric up. Thorne raised his arms and sat up, allowing John to pull it off of him to the floor. </p><p>“You are so perfect,” John breathed, kissing across the planes of Thorne’s torso, breathing out a compliment between each kiss. “Sexy.” He licked around Thorne’s right nipple, whirling his warm tongue around the bud until it stiffened. The rock star gasped at the sensation, tangling a hand in John’s hair. </p><p>“Gorgeous.” John moved to the other nipple, laving the bud with his tongue and rolling the other between his fingertips. “Suave.” He kissed and nibbled his way down Thorne’s belly, remembering the drunken body shot incident in Wales. They would have to repeat that some other time. </p><p>“John,” Thorne moaned when the bassist kissed his navel, nibbled the skin above his waistband. “Please. I want to feel you.” He tossed his head back against the pillow when John palmed him through his jeans, a moan getting punched out of his chest.</p><p>John smiled and leaned down, pressing his mouth over the bulge in Thorne’s pants, pressing his tongue against the clothed flesh. Thorne arched into the touch, moaning, pulling on John’s hair. John rubbed his hands along his love’s thighs and undid the buttons, then used his teeth to lower the zipper. He tossed Thorne’s jeans to the floor, leaving him in just his tight, tented black boxes before removing those as well. Thorne’s erection sprung free against his stomach, the head flushed and leaking pearly liquid. </p><p>“God, you are so…” John stopped and simply wrapped his lips around his lover’s erection, one hand grasping the base as he tasted the salty fluid. Thorne moaned loudly, his hips jolting off the bed slightly. John held him still though, and took him deeper into his mouth, bobbing his head as he wrapped his tongue around the shaft, tracing the veins beneath the skin. He cupped Thorne’s balls in his other hands, rolling them gently in his palm. </p><p>“J-John, fuck, fuck, your mouth,” Thorne moaned, his voice rough. “God, your mouth feels bloody amazing.” He keened when John pressed his tongue against the leaking slit. “Fuck, that feels good, baby, so fucking good!”</p><p>John hummed at the praise, continuing his ministrations for a minute more. Thorne’s moans were getting louder and higher, his hand tight in John’s hair, nails scratching against his scalp. John could tell he was close and continued, until Thorne suddenly tugged on his hair.</p><p>“Wait-wait, John,” he said. “Stop for a second.”</p><p>John instantly obeyed and pulled off, his lips slick and swollen, a strand of saliva hanging from his lip connected to the head of Thorne’s cock.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” he asked.</p><p>“I was about to come,” Thorne answered. “I don’t want to do that until you’re inside me.”</p><p>John’s cock throbbed in his jeans at that, leaking more precome into his underwear. He groaned and crawled up Thorne’s body, kissing him. Thorne moaned, tasting himself on his lover’s tongue. John got off the bed and started to remove his jeans, but Thorne sat up and crawled forward across the mattress on his knees, smacking his hands away. He smirked and kissed John’s neck, his chest, swirled his tongue around a nipple as he unbuckled the bassist’s belt and opened his jeans, cupping him through his boxers.</p><p>“Thorne,” John gasped as the rock star lowered both garments down his legs, letting John kick them away. </p><p>“You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, John,” Thorne murmured reverently, his eyes wide and dark. </p><p>He laid down on his stomach, pulling John closer by his hips. John moaned, lacing a hand through Thorne’s messy hair as the rock star took his erection into his mouth, his painted nails digging into the firm flesh of John’s arse. Thorne licked the head, humming at the flavor of the precome on his tongue as he circled the shaft, taking it all the way down his throat. John moaned, loud and long, guiding Thorne’s movements with the hand in his hair, thrusting his hips gently into the moist cavern of his lover’s mouth. </p><p>“Thorne, fuck, you are so, fuck so good at that,” John gasped. “Your mouth feels incredible on my cock.”</p><p>Thorne looked up into John’s eyes, his blue orbs blown black by desire. He pulled off, causing John to whine as the rock star kissed his way back up John’s body to his lips.</p><p>“Take me,” Thorne whispered against their lips, staring into brown eyes now dark as the night.</p><p>“Yes,” John gasped.</p><p>He pulled Thorne’s body close to his, claiming his mouth in a messy kiss. Thorne moaned, wrapping his arms around John’s shoulders and his legs around his waist as they fell back onto the bed. Thorne fumbled a hand over to the nightstand and opened the top drawer, removing a tube of lube and pushing into John’s hand. The bassist deftly flipped the cap open and coated his fingers.</p><p>“I’ll go slow,” he whispered. “I know it’s been a while and I don’t want to hurt you.”</p><p>“Okay,” Thorne replied, his heart thudding against his chest.</p><p>John carefully reached Thorne’s arse, teasing the tight hole with the tip of one long finger. He pressed in slowly, kissing Thorne’s thighs to soothe him when he hissed and clenched around the intrusion. Thorne let out a low breath and relaxed his body, letting John push further in. After making sure Thorne was comfortable with one, John added a second slick digit, scissoring them, easing the soft, sensitive muscles to relax more. He brushed against that bundle of nerves, and Thorne cried out in pleasure, his cock leaking fluid onto his belly as he arched his back.</p><p>“John, please,” he begged, sounding almost on the verge of tears. “I need you inside me.”</p><p>John added a third finger, twisting them around in Thorne’s hole, making sure he was nice and open for what was to come. He pulled his fingers out and started to slick up his cock when something occurred to him.</p><p>“Condoms?” he asked. “I know we’re both clean but I just wanted to…”</p><p>“I only want to be filled by you now, John,” Thorne rasped. “Claim me, baby. Make me yours.”</p><p>John growled. He couldn’t help it. He took himself in hand, hissing at the cold slickness on his hot flesh before he settled between Thorne’s legs again, the tip of his erection pressing against his lover’s hole. He braced his hands on either side of Thorne’s head, staring into his eyes. Thorne gripped his biceps and wound his legs around John’s waist, pulling him closer. Both of them moaned loudly as John pressed into Thorne, the ring of muscle warm and tight around his prick. Thorne dug his nails into John’s flesh as he bottomed out, then they both held still for a moment, panting.</p><p>“You feel bloody amazing, love,” John whispered. </p><p>“So do you,” Thorne whispered back. He shifted his hips. “Please move.”</p><p>John nodded, kissing him as he began to thrust his hips. He started out gentle, not wanting to hurt his lover. How long had it been since anybody had actually made love to Thorne? Cherished him like the perfect thing he was? This was so much better, more potent than the first time they’d met in Aberdeen. That night had been fueled by alcohol and the loud music of the club, the tangible lust in the air. This time was slow, gentle, full of love and vulnerability.</p><p>“John,” Thorne keened when the bassist hit his prostate. “Harder, baby, please!:</p><p>His nails scratched down John’s back as the Scot obliged, hammering into his lover with abandon, the bed banging into the wall. Thorne came first, tears rolling down his cheeks as his cock spurted white come between their stomachs. His skin was flushed pink and sweaty, shining in the firelight, his blue eyes red from his tears, his lips swollen and such a perfect shade of red. </p><p>“Thorne,” John moaned as he came, biting down on his lover’s shoulder as hot spurts of come filled the rock star, claiming him as John’s.</p><p>The Scot collapsed on top of his lover, breathing heavily. The fire crackled in the sex-scented air. After a few minutes, John pulled out, kissing Thorne when he whimpered at the loss. A new spark of love and possessiveness thrilled down John’s spine at the sight of his release dripping from Thorne’s hole. They made love two more times that afternoon and into the night. Once on their sides, John pressed up against his lover’s back, nibbling his ear as Thorne grasped his hip, urging him on, and the last time with Thorne in John’s lap, riding him as the bassist kissed his neck, his chest, pulling his head back by his hair to trace the lines of his throat with his tongue.</p><p>When they finally stopped for good, John went into the bathroom and quickly returned with a damp towel, wiping down Thorne’s skin tenderly, cleaning off the sweat and seed before doing the same thing to himself. Then they took a bath together. John held Thorne against his chest, stroking his messy black hair as they lounged in the warm water. They got into bed and Thorne laid down against John’s chest again, and John found that he didn’t mind at all. He loved the warmth and solidness of Thorne’s body against his.</p><p>“I love you,” John whispered, stroking his lover’s hair. Without the product, Thorne’s hair was soft and tousled around his head like black dandelion fluff, gliding against John’s fingers.</p><p>“I love you too,” Thorne whispered back, drawing lazy patterns on John’s stomach with his fingertips. </p><p>John kissed his forehead before both then drifted off to sleep, lulled by the sound of fireplace still crackling away and the tranquility of their love.</p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John watched Thorne sleep, his breathing gentle and even, tickling his bare skin with every exhale. His black hair was tousled and soft as John stroked it slowly, not wanting to disturb his love from his peaceful slumber. John sighed, still in awe that he was in this position, in Thorne’s bed, holding him close. He had been living in the castle with the rock star for a couple weeks now, and John was certain he’d never been more content in life. Every morning they got to wake up together, shower together, kissing under the spray of the hot water. They ate breakfast together and then spent the rest of the day between playing games in the game room, watching movies while eating dinner in the evening, and making love well into the night.</p><p>John never thought he’d get to make love with anyone but he and Thorne couldn’t keep their hands off each other. So far they’d been intimate in almost every room of the castle. John’s favorite moment was still the other day, when they were in the game room playing pool. He’d been lining up his next shot when he’d noticed Thorne staring at him intently, leaning on his pool cue.</p><p>“What?” John had asked.</p><p>“I love you,” Thorne had answered. “You are the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met. You kill me sometimes.”</p><p>John had felt his heart speed up at that. He tossed his pool cue away, knocked the remaining balls into the holes, then approached Thorne, kissing him deeply and hungrily. Thorne had moaned, his body going pliant against John’s as he lifted Thorne onto the pool table and had him lie down on his back, quickly removing their shirts as they made out and divested each other of their jeans. Some nights, if either of them were too sore or sensitive, they just laid in Thorne’s bed, kissing and cuddling while the fireplace crackled merrily away. Thorne’s favorite thing to do beside sex was to just be held by John, either fully clothed or naked. He would burrow his head under John’s chin or in the crook of his neck, sighing in contentment.</p><p>“I love the way you hold me,” he’d whisper. </p><p>:”I’ll always hold you, Thorne,” John would whisper back. </p><p>It had been a month since the canceled tour and in truth, neither of them were eager to reschedule the dates and resume it anytime soon. Thorne was afraid that he’d revert back to what he was. He’d been a sex addict for years and he wanted to stay true to John. He was scared that he would give in to his urges the minute the touring resumed.</p><p>“The last thing I want to do is hurt you, John,” Thorne had said one afternoon when they had been lounging on the couch. “I finally have something good in my life and I don’t want to screw it up.”</p><p>“I know,” John had replied. “But don’t worry, love. We have plenty of time to reschedule the tour. Besides, I don’t think the guys are eager to start it up again anyway. They’re finally back with their families.”</p><p>That was indeed true. David, Michael, Zeke, and Jason had been away from their families for a few months as it was, and they were happy to be back home. </p><p>“Don’t rush back into things, mate,” Michael had said during a phone call. “The fans understand that Thorne and you will still need time to recover from what happened.”</p><p>The others said the same thing. Though Zeke had sounded smug about something when he’d called.</p><p>“David owes me tens pounds,’ he’d told John.</p><p>“For what?” John had asked.</p><p>“I told him that you guys would finally fess up your feelings and fuck each other senseless in the castle,” Zeke explained. “He thought it would take longer, but I knew you guys would get there eventually.”</p><p>John’s thoughts were interrupted by Thorne shifting in his sleep, nuzzling his face against the bassist’s bare chest as he blinked his eyes open. He smiled sleepily up at John, his blue eyes bright with love as he snuggled closer. </p><p>“What’s time?” he asked, his voice soft and still heavy with fatigue.</p><p>John picked his phone up off the nightstand. “Just after eleven. I’ve only been awake a few minutes though.”</p><p>Thorne hummed, pressing a kiss to John’s chest as he closed his eyes again. John chuckled and stroked his boyfriend’s messy hair.</p><p>“We’ll have to get up eventually, love,” he said.</p><p>Thorne grumbled, burrowing his face into the crook of John’s neck. The bassist laughed. He found it adorable that Thorne wasn’t a morning person. When he did wake up early it was like watching a sleepy baby animal shake off hibernation. </p><p>“S’nice here,” Thorne said, adjusting them so that he was almost completely wrapped around John. “It’s warm and smells like you here.”</p><p>“Alright, love, you can stay in bed,” John acquiesced. “We’ll stay in bed today, yeah? It’s not like we have to do anything.” He shifted, easing himself out of Thorne’s serpentine hold. “I’ll just go get a few things, okay?”</p><p>“K,” Thorne replied, closing his eyes again. “Hurry back, baby boy.”</p><p>John kissed his forehead and left the room, heading down to the kitchen to gather some supplies, wearing nothing but his boxers and a tank top, a warm feeling in his chest at Thorne’s pet name for him. He returned bearing a tray with coffee and breakfast. Thorne perked up a little at the smell of the coffee. </p><p>“Thanks,” he said, taking a mug off the tray.</p><p>“You’re welcome,” John replied, getting back into bed and sipping his own drink.</p><p>Thorne cuddled against him again and John wrapped an arm around him. They drank their coffee in comfortable silence and then ate breakfast, an oatmeal that John made, sweetened with cinnamon, sugar, and maple syrup.</p><p>“You’re sexy, a talented bass player, and you can cook,” Thorne proclaimed as he set his empty bowl aside. “Where have you been all my life?”</p><p>John smiled and kissed him. “I’m right here, now.”</p><p>Thorne grinned and kissed him back. They spent the day in bed, watching movies on one of the many streaming services Thorne subscribed to, or making love, slowly and tenderly. John knew he would never grow tired of feeling Thorne wrapped around him, his nails leaving scratches down John’s back as he climaxed. They only left the bed to go to the bathroom or to make a run down to the kitchen. John was thinking about what was next for them though. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned about what would happen if they went on tour again.</p><p>‘He’s changed now,’ John thought to himself. ‘He doesn’t want to revert back to what he was.’</p><p>John also hoped that maybe an opportunity would arise for them to go out in public as a couple. But he wasn’t sure where. Some places like a restaurant sounded too cliche and Thorne was anything but that. He was special and needed to be shown off at a special event, but maybe something not as public as a concert. John pondered that as he left the bedroom and headed downstairs to grab some stuff from the kitchen again that afternoon. While he was in there, he heard movement outside on the porch. The mail slot popped open and several envelopes landed on the rug beneath it.</p><p>John walked over and picked them up, sorting through them as he climbed the stairs. Most of it was just junk mail.</p><p>“What’s that?” Thorne asked when John entered the bedroom again.</p><p>“Mail,” John replied, sitting down on the bed. “Don’t think it’s anything important though. Mostly junk I think.” </p><p>He tossed most of it into the trash after letting Thorne look at it. John reached the last envelope in the stack however and paused as he held it up. It was a rather nice envelope, cream-colored paper with Thorne’s address written on it in blue ink. The other address was one John didn’t recognize somewhere in London.</p><p>“I know that address,” Thorne said when he saw it. “That’s the house that David shares with his girlfriend Alexis.” </p><p>John raised an eyebrow curiously and slit it open with his fingernail.He removed a card and a folded letter. The card was the same color as the envelope and showed pictures of David, smiling and posing with a pretty young woman. In the center of the card was an inscription neatly typed:</p><p>‘You and a guest are invited to the wedding of David Thomas Cane and Alexis Michelle Lawson. The ceremony is to be held privately at St. Victoria Gardens on June 30th. Please RSVP to let the bride and groom know you are coming.’</p><p>“Wow,” Thorne said. “David finally proposed to her. Great. Now I owe Michael twenty pounds.”</p><p>John snorted a laugh as he picked up the later. It was written in David’s familiar handwriting.</p><p>“What does the letter say?” Thorne asked.</p><p>“It’s written by David,” John replied. “It says that he wants us and the others to be his groomsmen at the wedding.”</p><p>“Really?” Thorne asked. “Wow.”</p><p>“Should we go?” John asked, picking up the invitation. “I’ll be honest I’ve been waiting for us to go out as a couple. This could be the perfect chance.”</p><p>Thorne seemed to ponder that. He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his neck.</p><p>“I have been wanting to go out properly with you too,” he admitted to John. “I just wasn’t sure how or when.” He smiled. ‘But this is perfect.” </p><p>“Well, in that case,” John said. He set the invitation and letter aside again then faced Thorne directly.</p><p>“Will you go the the wedding with me. Thorne Jamison?” he asked.</p><p>Thorne smiled broadly. “I’d love to, John."</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thorne examined himself in the full-length mirror, feeling excited butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He wore an all-black tuxedo with a white shirt and red tie, which stood out against the black and white fabrics. His hair was styled as per usual, his blue eyes lined carefully with black kohl. His painted nails flashed as he adjusted his tie, then stepped out of the dressing room. This was the first time he’d worn a suit since his divorce, but he felt good. Confident, even.</p><p>“John, love, are you ready?” he asked, checking his phone. “We’re supposed to be at the garden in thirty minutes.”</p><p>“Almost” John called from the other dressing room. </p><p>Thorne smiled. He couldn’t wait to see John’s reaction to his suit, or to see what his boyfriend was wearing to the wedding. They’d each had an outfit made for the occasion, by a tailor David trusted, who had designed outfits for him and the others, as well the dress for the bride, Alexis. Thorne pocketed his phone and fiddled with his silver cufflinks.</p><p>“My, God you look amazing,” John breathed, entering the room.</p><p>Thorne grinned and looked up at his boyfriend, but his response died on his lips as his brain short-circuited when he saw what John was wearing. The bassist smiled, his hair and beard neatly trimmed as he folded his hands behind his back as Thorne’s eyes roamed his body. John wore a white shirt and a purple tie beneath a dark tuxedo jacket. From the waist down, he wore black dress shoes with socks that stopped at his knees, and a black-and-purple kilt in a tartan pattern. Thorne had never thought much of tartan before, but now he thought it was the sexiest thing in the world.</p><p>“You look bloody gorgeous,” he said, his voice hushed and awed.</p><p>“Thank you,” John replied. He ran his hands across his front, smoothing the fabric out. “I wasn’t sure about the kilt at first, but given your reaction I’d say it was a good idea.”</p><p>“A brilliant idea,” Thorne agreed, licking his lips.</p><p>John chuckled and walked over, kissing Thorne on the lips. The rock star pulled him closer by his jacket, deepening the kiss. He wrapped his arms around John’s slender waist, feeling the soft material of the kilt beneath his hands. John held Thorne close, sighing into the kiss. Thorne started to walk them backward, pressing John into the wall.</p><p>“We have some time,” he whispered against their lips. “Actual ceremony isn’t until one.”</p><p>“Yes, but David asked us to be there early,” John pointed out between kisses. He placed a hand against Thorne’s chest, holding him back. “He wants us there to take pictures before the guests arrive.”</p><p>Thorne grumbled. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to wait until the wedding was over. John smiled and kissed the pout off his lips.</p><p>“Hush, love,” he said. “It’ll be over before you know it, and then we can come back to the hotel, where we can rip each other’s clothes off one by one.” He cupped Thorne’s chin between two fingers. “Sound like a plan?”</p><p>Thorne nipped the tip of one of John’s fingers, his eyes hot and dark. “Fine.”</p><p>John chuckled again and Thorne stepped back, adjusting his clothes and smoothing the wrinkles from John’s.</p><p>“You really do look gorgeous,” he said. </p><p>“So do you,” John returned. “Looking like that, hanging off my arm, we might give David and Alexis a run for their money.”</p><p>Thorne smiled. “I hope so.”</p><p>They kissed chastely and finished getting ready, heading outside to the taxi waiting by the curb. Thorne slid inside first followed by John. As the car began moving, Thorne reached out and took John’s hand in his, interlacing their fingers against his thigh. John smiled and side eyed him before giving his hand a subtle squeeze that Thorne returned. The ride was fairly short, only about ten minutes before they pulled up outside St. Victoria Gardens. John paid the driver before he and Thorne exited the car. He whistled as they entered the building and reception area.</p><p>The main room was posh and richly decorated. Tables covered by cream-coloured tablecloths were topped with unlit candles and painted vases of flowers. The beams on the ceiling were encircled by twinkling white-and-gold lights. A faux fireplace burned blue nearby. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in the sunlight and were framed by heavy curtains.</p><p>“The main ceremony is supposed to be outside in the garden,” John said. “Let’s see if any of the others have arrived yet.”</p><p>“Good idea.” Thorne agreed. </p><p>They headed outside into the balmy afternoon, walking through a palace of brightly-coloured flowers, topiaries shaped like hearts, angels, and swans, and a burbling fountain with stone frogs spewing water. They found the altar in a few minutes. Rows of chairs faced a bamboo archway wreathed orange flowers and underneath a large apple tree. David was there, looking nervous but excited as he chatted with Jason and Michael, who each wore a black tux but a different tie-Jason’s was green while Michael’s was orange. David himself wore a blue suit with a black bow tie, which he kept fiddling with.</p><p>“Relax, mate, you look great,” Michael told him. “And I know Alexis will think so too.”</p><p>“Thanks,” David replied. “God, I haven’t been this nervous since college graduation.”</p><p>“You were nervous because you were hungover,” Michael pointed out, patting his shoulder. “You were afraid that you would throw up on the stage, but luckily you held it back until the ceremony was over.” He gripped David’s shoulder. “Luckily that’s not the case this time.”</p><p>David smiled. He patted Michael’s hand and looked over as John and Thorne approached.</p><p>“Well, look who’s finally out of the castle.” Jason said. “You guys look great!”</p><p>“Thanks, Jas,” Thorne said. “It’s good to see you guys too.”</p><p>“Thank you both for being here,” David said. “It means a lot.”</p><p>“No problem, David,” John replied. “Thanks for inviting us.”</p><p>He smiled and nervously ran a hand over his black hair. Zeke and Trixie showed up a few minutes later. Trixie wore a purple dress and flat shoes, her hair tied in a plait down her back. Zeke wore black slacks and shoes but a dark red tuxedo jacket. His long red hair hung in loose curls to his shoulders. He was accompanied by a pretty woman wearing a blue dress and three little girls, the youngest about four or five, the oldest one maybe nine. They wore pink, yellow, and purple dresses, and the youngest girl had a basket of flower petals on her arm.</p><p>“John, this is my wife Ashley,” Zeke said, introducing them.</p><p>“It’s nice to meet you,” John told her, offering his hand politely. </p><p>She smiled and shook it. “So you’re the new bass player I’ve been hearing so much about.”</p><p>“Guilty as charged,” John said with a shrug. He looked over at the three girls watching them. “And who might these pretty things be?”</p><p>“My name’s Jessie,” said the oldest girl, the one in the yellow dress. </p><p>“I’m Serena,” the one in the purple dress said. She looked about six or seven.</p><p>The youngest one looked up at John shyly and fiddled with her basket. John smiled and kneeled down in front of her. <br/>“What's your name, sweet one?” he asked gently. </p><p>“Abby,” she answered, slowly looking up into John’s face. “Why are you wearing a skirt?”</p><p>Thorne snorted a laugh. John chuckled and stood up, pretending to be embarrassed.</p><p>“My dry cleaner shrunk my trousers,” he explained. “I should fire him, eh?”</p><p>Abby giggled. Zeke smiled at John before ushering his family off to find their seats. Thorne nudged his boyfriend’s shoulder.</p><p>“Nice one,” he said. </p><p>“Thanks,” John replied. “I was waiting for someone to make a skirt joke.” He rubbed his chin. “Just figured it would come from one of the guys.”</p><p>“The day is still young,” Thorne said. “That’s still a possibility.”</p><p>As they ceremony neared, more people began to show up-friends and family from both the bride and groom’s sides of the family. Even though the wedding was supposed to be private, paparazzi showed up eventually, milling around outside the garden. David had hired security guards to make sure none of them actually made it inside the area. Thorne was a little nervous about that. He hadn’t been in public like this in a month, not since his overdose and hospital discharge. He was worried what they would do when they saw him. </p><p>“Try to ignore them, love,” John instructed, squeezing his hand. “I’m right here with you.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Thorne replied, squeezing back.</p><p>They both stood beside the altar under the tree, alongside Jason, Michael, and Zeke. David stood beneath the altar, still looking nervous. On the side where his bride was to stand, several women stood by, wearing dresses of different styles and colours. A priest appeared a few minutes later, patting David’s shoulder encouragingly. Finally, the music began, a live band having been hired. Everyone stood up as David’s bride, Alexis, appeared, walked down the aisle by an older man Thorne assumed was her father. David’s nerves seemed to vanish as Alexis came to stand in front of him. She was Asian, her almond-shaped eyes painted a dramatic shade of blue, her dark hair braided with flowers. She wore a beautiful red dress, richly embroidered with gold beads and floral patterns.</p><p>‘Reminds me of the dress my wife wore,’ Thorne thought, feeling a stab of guilt and anguish in his gut.</p><p>As the priest began to speak, Thorne’s mind drifted. He hadn’t been to a wedding since his own years ago, or any sort of formal event really. He hadn’t even expected to be invited to this wedding. He stole a glance at John, standing next to him, looking so gorgeous in his outfit, his brown eyes flashing in the sunlight, his hands clasped in front of him. </p><p>‘I wonder if he wanted to marry Alex,’ Thorne thought. ‘Would he if things had worked out differently?’</p><p>That thought sent a needle of jealousy, hot and sharp, through Thorne’s heart. The idea of John marrying someone else was unbearable. But the idea of marrying John made something squirm in Thorne’s belly. Could he be married again? He and John had been through more weirdness and tough times then he and his wife had gone through. That had bonded them, made them stronger. </p><p>‘Don’t rush into things, Jamison,’ Thorne thought. ‘You’ve been together for a month. Pace yourself.’ His thoughts were broken by the priest suddenly turning in their direction. </p><p>“Do you have the rings?” he asked Michael.</p><p>“Yes,” Michael replied, reaching into his pocket and removing a small velvet box. </p><p>David smiled at him as he took the box and opened it. He slid a gold ring onto Alexis’ left hand, then she put a matching one on his. </p><p>“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest said. “You may kiss the bride.”</p><p>David lifted the veil of Alexis’s face. Her painted lips pulled into a smile as David wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. People cheered and applauded, standing up from their chairs. Cameras flashed from both the crowd and the paparazzi outside. Thorne clapped as well and looked at John. The bassist was wiping at his eyes.</p><p>“Are you okay, Baby Boy?” Thorne asked, stepping closer to him.</p><p>“Yeah, m’fine,” John replied, blushing. “Just sensitive, remember?”</p><p>Thorne smiled and cupped his boyfriend’s warm cheek. “I like sensitivity. Don’t be embarrassed, Baby Boy.”</p><p>John grinned back. They guests began to head back to the building. John offered Thorne his arm, and they followed the crowd inside. The two seated themselves at a table with Trixie and Michael, and two other empty chairs. David and Alexis sat up at a table overlooking the crowd, looking happy and in love. </p><p>An hour later, the wedding was in full swing. Dinner was served on time while Michael delivered a quick toast in David and Alexis’ honor, earning a few laughs from the crowd as he told stories from his and David’s school days. A few tables were cleared away to make room for the bride and groom’s first dance. Thorne watched them, his chin propped up in his hand. Waiters came by offering champagne, but he turned them down each time. Alcohol was the last thing he needed.</p><p>“You okay?” John asked, bringing him back to Earth.</p><p>Thorne looked over at him, over the remnants of the wedding cake slices. David and Alexis had cut it together, and she had smashed a slice into David’s mouth, then laughed as he dipped her and planted kisses on her face, staining it with frosting.</p><p>“I’m alright,” Thorne replied. “Just thinking.”</p><p>“Anything you’d care to share?” John asked.</p><p>Thorne shrugged, absently twirling his fork. “I haven’t been to a wedding since my own, years ago.” He chuckled a little. “Truth be told I don’t remember much.”</p><p>“I’ve only been to the weddings of family members,” John said. “Aunts and uncles and the like.” He smiled slightly. “This is better than those though. At least I have a date this time.”</p><p>Thorne laughed. David and Alexis finished their dance, allowing others to enter the floor. Zeke went out there with his wife, while Michael stepped out with another man in a wine-coloured tux, holding a little boy dressed in slacks and a dress shirt. The man held the boy on his shoulders as they danced, occasionally letting him take Michael’s hand and twirl him.</p><p>“Want to dance?” John asked.</p><p>“What?” Thorne looked up from where he’d been stabbing at his cake slice with his fork.</p><p>John stood up from their table and offered Thorne his hand. “Come on. At least one dance.”</p><p>“Alright,” Thorne agreed. “But I should warn that I can’t dance that well.”</p><p>John led him out onto the floor, pulling him into an embrace. “Just follow my lead, love.”</p><p>He adjusted their positions, guiding one of Thorne’s hands to his hip, the other on his shoulder, keeping their free hands intertwined. They moved across the floor in an uncomplicated two-step. Thorne stared into John’s dark eyes.</p><p>“I didn’t know you danced,” he said.</p><p>“I learned,” John replied. “Thought it would help win some lucky girl over of I knew how, but amazingly, knowing how to ballroom dance is a skill not a lot of women look for.”</p><p>Thorne laughed. John spun him, keeping one hand on his hip while their arms stretched out, then back to facing each other again.</p><p>“I’m glad we came here,” John said. “I finally get the chance to show you off.”</p><p>“Same here, Baby Boy,” Thorne replied. </p><p>John spun him again, bringing the rock star back to him, his back against John’s chest, one hand holding his hip while their other held his arm out. John’s warm breath tickled Thorne’s neck, raising goosebumps across the skin. He shivered. John drew him close again, lifting him up and spinning him in a circle before dipping lowly, his broad hands grasping Thorne’s waist. He was so strong and warm and solid. Their noses touched, blue eyes meeting brown as the music stopped and people applauded.</p><p>“I love you,” John whispered. </p><p>“I love you too,” Thorne whispered back.</p><p>John righted them as the crowd kept cheering. He blushed again and rubbed his neck. Thorne took his hand. </p><p>“Let’s get some air, yeah?” he asked.</p><p>John nodded and they headed back outside to the garden. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow across the foliage, glittering off the water in the fountain. As they cleared the corner, Thorne pressed John against a hedge, kissing him deeply. John groaned and pulled him closer. The rock star’s hand slipped down to his ass, squeezing through the kilt. </p><p>“Can we get out of here now?” Thorne asked, desperately. “Seeing you in this has been driving me crazy all day.”</p><p>“Same here,” John gasped. “But what about the reporters still outside?”</p><p>“Let them see us,” Thorne replied. “I want the world to know you’re my boyfriend, John.”</p><p>The bassist smiled. They left the gardens and caught a cab outside. Sure enough, the paparazzi swarmed them instantly like flies to honey.</p><p>“Mr. Jamison, when are you going to reschedule your tour?” one asked. </p><p>“Is it true you overdosed and had to seek medical help for your addictions?” another probed.</p><p>“Here’s what you need to know,” Thorne told them. “The tours will be rescheduled at a later date, but right now I just want to spend some time with my boyfriend.”</p><p>“Who’s your boyfriend?” another reporter asked.</p><p>Thorne smiled and took John’s hand. “John, our new bassist, is my boyfriend.”</p><p>John beamed, his eyes sparkling as Thorne kissed him. They quickly got into the cab amid a flurry of new questions and camera flashes.</p>
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<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John groaned as Thorne pressed him against the elevator wall, hands fisted in his dark jacket as he crashed their lips together passionately. The bassist gripped his lover’s waist, pulling him closer. He could feel Thorne’s length pressing against his thigh, and John fared no better, his own erection tenting his kilt and the underwear beneath it. He’d already been hot and bothered throughout the day, seeing Thorne dressed in his tux, that red tie, his hair styled, his piercing blue eyes lined in kohl. But being announced as his boyfriend and kissing in full view of the paparazzi, showing him off at the wedding, had made John even more desperate.</p><p>“Thank God,” Thorne breathed, breaking the kiss as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. </p><p>John chuckled breathlessly as he was dragged out into the hall and toward their room on the third floor. Thorne fumbled for the room key and pushed the door open, pulling John inside and shutting it behind them. He pressed the bassist to the wall again, kissing him like he wanted to inhale him. They each kicked off their dress shoes, but when John made a move to start taking Thorne’s clothes off, the singer grabbed his hands and pinned them to the wall. John’s eyes widened, his heart racing as his cock twitched. </p><p>“Tonight’s about you, Baby Boy,” Thorne said, his breath warm against John’s face as he leaned closer. “I’m going to worship you, your gorgeous body the way I should have that night in Aberdeen.”</p><p>“Thorne,” John moaned.</p><p>The singer smirked, his eyes glinting devilishly. He slowly, sensually, began to remove John’s clothes, starting with his socks. He caressed John’s legs reverently, dragged his nails across the skin. He teasingly avoided the prominent bulge tenting his boyfriend’s kilt, instead moving to peel the dark jacket off John’s broad shoulders, letting it puddle to the floor, followed by his tie. Darkening blue eyes met hooded brown ones as Thorne unbuttoned John’s white shirt one button at a time, before it fell to the floor as well. John shivered, his hot skin crawling with goosebumps as the cool air of the hotel room brushed across it, feeling exposed despite the fact that he still wore his kilt and underwear.</p><p>“Beautiful,” Thorne whispered.</p><p>He kissed John again, gently, his hands warm on the bassist’s waist. John wound his arms around his boyfriend, shuddering as the feeling of clothes against his bare skin. The kiss turned hungry as Thorne moved them toward the bed, pushing John to sit down on the mattress. </p><p>“Lie back, baby,” Thorne ordered, stroking his boyfriend’s cheek.</p><p>John obeyed, stretching out on his back, head and shoulders propped up by the pillows. Thorne smiled and undid his tie, letting circle his neck in two long stripes of red on either side of his throat. He undid the top few buttons of his dress shirt, showing the barest hint of his pale skin before climbing onto the bed and straddling John’s waist. The taller man moaned as their clothed erections brushed together. He reached up and Thorne took both his hands in his, intertwining their fingers as he leaned down and kissed the bassist, pinning their joined hands over his head again. John moaned, shifting his hips and arching his back slightly.</p><p>“Like that, do you?” Thorne asked, laughter in his voice. “Like being held down, pinned in place?”</p><p>“Yes,” John gasped. </p><p>“Hmm.” Thorne hummed, grinding against John, enjoying the whines of pleasure leaving his lips. “What else do you like, Baby Boy? Tell me how to make you feel good.”</p><p>John bit down on his bottom lip, shifting his hips. “I-I like being bitten. My neck and my-my nipples are really sensitive.” His breath hitched as Thorne ground against him again. “I love it when someone nibbles on my ears, my piercings.” He looked up into Thorne’s smoldering blue eyes. “Please, love. I need you.”</p><p>Thorne’s eyes sparkled. Tightening his grip on John’s hands, he leaned down, kissing him deeply before pulling away, tugging on John’s lower lip as he did so. He kissed along his boyfriend’s bearded jawline, his neck, alternating between kisses and bites, enjoying the way John was moaning and writhing pleasure, not even trying to break free from Thorne’s grip. The singer reached his lover’s right ear, nibbled the shell gently before tugging lightly on the black piercing on the lobe.</p><p>“Thorne,” John whined, tossing his head back, flexing against Thorne’s grip. His cock was so hard it was painful, leaking furiously, a dark spot growing larger on his kilt. </p><p>“Shhh,” Thorne hushed, nuzzling his boyfriend’s neck. “I’ve got you, love, I’ve got you.” He pressed his lips to John’s ear. “I’ll let go of your hands, but you’re not allowed to touch me until I say you can, okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” John said, his voice a whisper.</p><p>Thorne released his boyfriend’s hands and sat back. John looked up at his lover, licking his lips at how sexy he looked, still fully dressed but slightly mussed with his undone tie, partially unbuttoned shirt, swollen, red lips. Thorne’s eyes were roving John’s body as well.</p><p>“God, you are so bloody sexy,” he breathed. “I almost don’t want to take the kilt off.”</p><p>“You don’t have to,” John replied. “Just take off my underwear and fuck me with it on.”</p><p>Thorne growled, deep from his chest, the sound making John’s cock leak even more. Thorne leaned in again and kissed down John’s lithe, hairy chest. The bassist keened when the singer swirled his warm tongue around a nipple, then bit down very gently on the tender bud. One of John’s hands came down and tangled in Thorne’s black hair. </p><p>“Thorne, fucking hell,” he gasped. </p><p>Instantly, the rock star ceased his ministrations and grabbed John’s hand, pinning it above his head again. The bassist suppressed a whimper as their eyes met.</p><p>“What did I say?” Thorne asked, calmly. “Now I’ll have to restrain you again.”</p><p>He let go of John’s hand and removed his tie, still hanging unbound around his neck. He grabbed both of John’s wrists and securely tied them to the wooden headboard of the bed.</p><p>“Too tight?” he asked, petting John’s hair.</p><p>“It’s good,” John replied. “Keep going.”</p><p>Thorne smiled gently, pressing a light kiss to his boyfriend’s flushed cheek. He continued to map out the expanse of John’s chest and smooth stomach with his lips, teeth, and tongue. By the time he finally, finally, reached the straining bulge in John’s kilt, the Scotsman was whimpering and whining, rolling his hips, trying to gain more friction while he flexed feebly against the tie binding his wrists. He all but yelled when Thorne reached under his kilt and removed his briefs, then, mouthed at his cock through the tartan material,  pressing his tongue against the cloth.</p><p>“Fuck, Thorne,” John rasped. “Please, put your mouth on me, love! I need you!”</p><p>He caught sight of the smirk pulling at Thorne’s lips before the rock star’s head disappeared under his kilt and a warm, hot mouth wrapped around his erection. John moaned loudly, his whole body thrumming with heat and arousal, his blood chasing in his veins, his heart pounding as Thorne sucked him off and cupped his balls in one hand, rolling them gently in his palm. John strained at the tie, knowing that he could break free if he wanted to, but in truth he didn’t want to. He’d never seen Thorne so controlling and dominant before. It turned him on immensely.</p><p>“Thorne, love, s-stop,” John gasped, feeling heat building low in his belly. “I-I’m gonna come!”</p><p>The rock star stopped and emerged from beneath the kilt, panting, his lips deliciously red and swollen, his eyes practically black with lust. He licked his lips, his gaze hungry as he made quick work of his clothes, tossing them to the floor in a flash. His cock was red and arched against his stomach, the head weeping furiously. He grabbed a bottle of lube out of the nightstand and slicked up his fingers, settling between John’s spread legs again.</p><p>“Have you done this before?” Thorne asked, hesitantly.</p><p>“Never this way,” John admitted, blushing. “You’re the first guy to have me like this.”</p><p>Thorne leaned down and kissed him. “I’ll go slow, okay? Let me know if you want me to stop and I will.”</p><p>John nodded. “Okay.”</p><p>His heart lurched with nerves, his stomach fluttered as Thorne kissed his inner thighs and circled his opening with the tip of one finger. John hissed and closed his eyes as Thorne’s finger pressed inside, the muscles clamping tightly down on the intruding digit. </p><p>“Relax, John,” Thorne whispered, kneading his thigh. “Relax.”</p><p>John nodded, letting out a deep breath, forcing himself to relax and loosen his muscles. Thorne kissed his thigh as his finger pressed in deeper. He added a second one after waiting for John’s consent, scissoring them. The bassist gasped as his prostate was probed, lightly as first then more incessantly as Thorne added a third slick digit. </p><p>“Thorne,” John moaned, his cock dripping a puddle of fluid on his belly. “Please get inside me! I’m so close already. Please fuck me!”</p><p>Thorne groaned, the desire in John’s voice as powerful as his own. He removed his fingers and slicked up his cock. He tapped the head against John’s hole, lifting the kilt up further to give him better access to his boyfriend’s opening. </p><p>“Could you remove the tie, please?” John asked, his accent thicker than usual. “I-I need to to touch you.”</p><p>The rock star grinned and granted his boyfriend’s request, deftly undoing the knot holding John’s wrsts to the headboard. As soon as John was free, he grabbed Thorne by the hair and wrapped his legs around his waist, pulling him as close as possible. He moaned as Thorne’s cock pressed into him, easing through the loose muscles as he bottomed out. John wound his arms around Thorne’s neck, staring into his eyes.</p><p>“You feel amazing,” Thorne whispered. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“Yeah,” John answered. “You can move.”</p><p>Thorne nodded, kissing him as he began to thrust. It started out gentle, until John whined as dug his nails in Thorne’s shoulders.</p><p>“Harder, love,” he purred against his mouth. “Fuck me.”</p><p>Thorne growled again and quickened his movements, slamming into John with abandon. The bed creaked and groaned, the headboard banging against the wall. Their moans and cries of ecstasy filled the room. John scratched his nails down Thorne’s back as his prostate was speared.</p><p>“There, Thorne!” he yelled out. “Fuck, yeah, right there. Fuck me, you sexy rock star!”</p><p>Thorne bit down on John’s shoulder, hard enough to a little blood. He thrust into John three more times before the Scot screamed, his whole, lanky body tensing as his orgasm crashed through him, staining the front of his kilt. </p><p>“Thorne!” he yelled as he cock gushed.</p><p>The rock star gasped as John tightened around him, muscles clamping down like a vise on his cock. He came hard and deep, filling John to the brim with hot come, then collapsed on top of him, panting against his ear. John rubbed his boyfriend’s back, frowning a little at the red scratches there. Hopefully he didn’t hurt Thorne too much. They together for a few minutes, the air smelling of sex and sweat, as Thorne softened inside of John.</p><p>“Wow,” they both said in unison, then laughed. </p><p>Thorne raised his head from John’s neck and looked into his eyes. “Are you alright? I wasn’t too rough, was I?”</p><p>John stroked his boyfriend’s sweaty hair back from his face. “I’m more than alright, love. And you are perfect.”</p><p>Thorne smiled and they shared a chaste kiss before he pulled out. John whined a little at the loss. Thorne shushed him with another kiss as he removed the soiled kilt from John’s waist and let it fall to the floor beside the bed. He left and went into the bathroom, then returned with a warm, damp cloth, using it to wipe down John’s thighs and leaking hole. </p><p>“We should shower,” John said through a yawn.</p><p>“Yeah,” Thorne agreed, tossing the cloth away. “But in a minute, right?”</p><p>John smiled and held his arms open. “Come here, love.”</p><p>Thorne burrowed into his boyfriend’s warmth, nestling his face into the crook of John’s neck. The bassist stroked the singer’s hair as they basked in silence for several minutes, enjoying the warmth and solidarity of each other’s body pressed against the other.</p><p>“I love you,” Thorne said, breaking the silence first.</p><p>“I love you too,” John replied. </p><p>Thorne propped himself up on one elbow, placing his other hand on John’s chest. “It took so much of my willpower to not drag you to the nearest dark corner or supply closet. Seeing you in that kilt is something I will definitely not forget.”</p><p>John laughed. “Well, it’s a good thing I persuaded the tailor to make it then, eh?”</p><p>Thorne’s mouth fell open. “You planned that?” He playfully slapped his boyfriend’s chest as he laughed again. “You arse!”</p><p>John shrugged, his eyes glinting mischievously. “I wanted to see how long it would take for you to snap. But believe me I was struggling too. Do you have any idea how sexy you look in a tux?”</p><p>Thorne shook his head and laid back down against John’s chest, tracing circles on his belly. John resumed the stroking of his messy hair. </p><p>“I was thinking,” he said. “About going on tour again.”</p><p>Thorne tensed. John felt it, every muscle going tense as the singer looked up at him. “What for?”</p><p>“I know you’re scared about falling back into your old habits, but I also know you miss it,” John told him. “I know you love the crowd, the music and the lights, everything. You’ll go crazy without music.”</p><p>Thorne opened his mouth to protest, but then stopped. John continued.</p><p>“But, I was thinking that, maybe, in a few weeks, we could discuss it with the guys and Trixie, see how they feel about rescheduling those shows we canceled while we were both hurt.”</p><p>“That does sound nice,” Thorne agreed. “But...I’m scared. I don’t want to hurt you again. I finally have something good in my life and I don’t want to screw it up.”</p><p>“I’ll be there with you,” John promised. “Every step of the way, I will be there. If you drink, I’ll make sure you stick to a certain number and make sure you get back in one piece. I’ll even throw my best death glare at anyone who tries to flirt with or make a move on you.”</p><p>Thorne laughed again, stroking John’s beard. “Alright. I’ll think about it once I’ve slept on it. Deal?”</p><p>John kissed his palm. “Deal.”</p><p>They left the bed and showered, then crawled under the blankets, Thorne wearing boxers and one of John’s T-shirts, John wearing some sleep pants and no shirt. He laid down and held Thorne against his chest, kissing his forehead as they both drifted off to sleep.</p>
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<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The final chapter of Bleeding Hearts and Rock n'Roll! Thank you all so much for supporting and reading this! I love you guys!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thorne was sound asleep when he felt the body beside his shift closer. He smiled, half asleep as sleepy kisses and nuzzles were peppered across the nape of his neck, coarse hair tickling his skin. A warm hand appeared on his waist, stroking his hip before moving to rest on his belly, as a broad chest pressed against his back.</p><p>“Good morning, love,” John purred, kissing Thorne’s earlobe tenderly, his voice lilting and playful.</p><p>The rock star hummed and rolled over a little, looking up into his boyfriend’s brown eyes. John smiled down at him, his eyes warm. Thorne reached up, caressing his cheek, stroking his fingers through his boyfriend’s beard as John leaned down to kiss his lips.</p><p>“Good morning,” Thorne murmured against their lips, wrapping his arms around John’s shoulders.</p><p>The bassist purred, moving under the blanket to fully straddle Thorne as the rock star rolled over onto his back, cupping the back of John’s head with one hand as they kissed.</p><p>“This is a much better way to wake up,” Thorne said, tracing the shape of John’s eyebrows, his lips, with a fingertip. “Not hungover and not with a stranger either.”</p><p>John hummed, mischievously nipping the tip of Thorne’s finger. “I did consider waking you up another way.”</p><p>“Really?” Thorne quirked his eyebrows. “What way was that?”</p><p>“I’ll show you,” John breathed, kissing him again, hungrily.</p><p>Thorne moaned, pulling his boyfriend closer, their bodies bare save for the blanket still covering them. The kiss turned to a full on make-out session, their breathing getting heavy as Thorne laced a hand through John’s hair, making him groan into their kiss. A knock at the door interrupted them just as John was kissing his way down Thorne’s body. Both men groaned.</p><p>“Who is it?” Thorne called.</p><p>“David,” the keyboard player replied from the other side of the door. “Just making sure you guys were awake. We stopped five minutes ago.”</p><p>“Alright, thanks,” Thorne said. “We’ll be out in a minute.”</p><p>David snorted. “I’m sure.”</p><p>They heard him walk away. John sighed and rested his chin against Thorne’s sternum.</p><p>“Well, that killed the mood,” he said. “Should we try to continue?”</p><p>“As much as I love that idea, we should probably get up and join them,” Thorne said, running a hand through John’s hair. “Though if you keep laying on me like that we may have to keep them waiting.”</p><p>John chuckled, kissing Thorne chastely before moving off him and exiting the bed. The blankets fell away from his body, leaving him perfectly naked. Thorne licked his lips at the sight as John gathered their robes from the back of the door. </p><p>“Care to join me in the shower?” John asked, raising his left eyebrow.</p><p>“You don’t even have to ask, Baby Boy,” Thorne replied, leaving the bed. </p><p>They entered Thorne’s private bathroom and showered together, though they did spend the first several minutes kissing under the spray of hot water. They wrapped it up quickly though, knowing that if they took any longer one of the others would come knocking on the door. The two men finished showering and dressed in their robes-Thorne’s white and John’s dark red, before getting dressed. Thorne sat at his vanity and applied his makeup, while John watched him.</p><p>“You’re so beautiful,” the bassist murmured, watching his boyfriend. “Do you know that?”</p><p>Thorne smiled and finished, turning to look at his boyfriend. “Only because you tell me every day.”</p><p>John grinned back. They gathered their things before leaving Thorne’s room and exiting the tour bus, stepping out into the warm Scotland air. It was a few weeks after David’s wedding. After he’d returned from his honeymoon, Thorne called a meeting to talk with the band and Jason and Trixie about rescheduling the canceled tours. He’d been nervous about going on the road again, but was reassured by John’s presence. The bassist was true to his promise to help Thorne manage his habits. He made sure that Thorne stuck to a certain number of drinks when they went out and always made sure that they were back at their hotel at a certain time.</p><p>“There’s the lovebirds,” Zeke said when he saw them. “I was wondering how long you’d be.”</p><p>“Sorry,” John replied. He slipped a hand into Thorne’s, interlacing their fingers. “We were….distracted.”</p><p>“Extremely distracted,” Thorne agreed.</p><p>Zeke snorted and rolled his eyes playfully. “I’m sure.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Michael chimed in, exiting the gas station they had stopped at. “I could hear your ‘distraction’ through the door last night. I’ll be buying earplugs at the next stop.”</p><p>Thorne made a face at the guitarist, who reciprocated. Jason came out of the gas station as well, a newspaper tucked under his arm. He smiled when he saw John and Thorne, walking over.</p><p>“Check this out, lads,” he said, handing John the paper. “You made the front page.”</p><p>John raised an eyebrow as he and Thorne examined it. Plastered across the front page was a headline: THORNE JAMISON’S NEW BOYFRIEND/BASSIST.’ Beneath that was a large picture of Thorne kissing John fully on the mouth. That was from David’s wedding reception.</p><p>“Wow,” Thorne said. “It’s been so long since I’ve been on the front page for a positive reason.”</p><p>“I’ve never been on anyone’s page, cept maybe Facebook,” John replied, opening the newspaper. </p><p>Inside was a long article that talked about Thorne’s hospitalization and John’s accident in Wales, when his fingers were broken. Thorne was shocked that it seemed to be painting him in a more flattering light than he’d expected. There was another picture inside, from one of their most recent concerts. Thorne smiled when he saw it. It was from a show in Wales, the first place they’d gone to once the new tour dates were set. He’d hooked John with the microphone and pulled him closer. </p><p>“What are you doing?” John had asked, staring into Thorne’s eyes.</p><p>“Making sure no one flirts with us again,” Thorne had answered, before pulling John into a kiss.</p><p>John froze for a split second while the crowd cheered, but then he relaxed, winding an arm around Thorne while raising his bass in the air.</p><p>“That’s one way to say that you’re taken,” John said. “It would explain the dirty looks I’ve been getting from the fans lately.” He folded the paper. “But they still want my autograph.”</p><p>“They respect you but hate you for having me,” Thorne told him. “They’ll get over it eventually.”</p><p>John chuckled, kissing him before heading inside the station. Thorne watched him go, smiling to himself. He saw Trixie watching them as she filled up the bus with more fuel. Thorne came over to her.</p><p>“I don’t think I ever thanked you,” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets and leaning against the bus. </p><p>“For what?” Trixie asked, arching an eyebrow.</p><p>“For bringing John back that night,” Thorne explained. “If you hadn’t….” He shook his head. “I don’t want to think about what would’ve happened if he hadn’t come back.”</p><p>“He always loved you, Thorne,” Trixie told him, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “He just needed a push in the right direction. I told him about Margaret and I, and that seemed to make him change his mind.”</p><p>“Thank you, Trix,” Thorne said. “Not just for bringing John back but for everything. Is there anything I can do to repay you?”</p><p>Trixie finished refueling and smiled. “You don’t have to do anything, lad.”</p><p>“Yeah, I do,” Thorne replied. “Just tell me. Anything.”</p><p>Trixie tapped her chin with a painted nail just as John came back outside. His hair and eyes flashed in the sunlight, the necklace Thorne had given him glinting on his neck. Thorne felt his heart warm at the sight. Trixie playfully nudged his shoulder.</p><p>“If and when you two get married, can I officiate it?” she asked as Thorne turned to her in shock. </p><p>She shrugged. “I am licensed to do that.”</p><p>Thorne laughed and shook his head. “Deal. John and I get married, you can officiate it.”</p><p>“I’ll hold you to that,” Trixie teased, kissing his cheek.</p><p>Thorne smiled as she walked away and headed back to John, who was sitting on a bench beside the fueling area.</p><p>“Hey,” he said when Thorne sat down beside him. “What were you and Trixie talking about?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Thorne replied. “Just messing with each other.”</p><p>He knew John could tell he was hiding something, but he didn’t press. Thorne loved him for that. He rested his head in the space between John’s neck and shoulder. The Scot wrapped an arm around him and kissed the top of his head.</p><p>“I was thinking,” he said. “We’ve still got a few miles before we reach the hotel.” He pressed his nose into Thorne’s hair. “It’s right by the club where we met. Want to go there sometime?”</p><p>“Sure,” Thorne agreed. “But why?”</p><p>John shrugged his other shoulder. “That’s where we met, and where I fell in love with you. I thought it would be nice to go back there as an actual couple this time.”</p><p>Thorne smiled and raised his head. “That’s a great idea.”</p><p>John kissed him. Thorne sighed, cupping his cheek. He knew he would never get tired of kissing John, holding him, being with him. The Scot had been more patient with him than anybody ever had. He’d been vigilant the whole tour, making sure Thorne didn’t fall back into his old habits. He was just the kind of gentle, kind, sensitive person Thorne had needed in his life.</p><p>“I love you,” Thorne said when they pulled away. “So much and more than anything else.”</p><p>John’s eyes were warm as he stroked Thorne’s face. “I love you too, Thorne. So much.” He pressed their foreheads together. “And as much as I love being on tour with you, I can’t wait to go back to the castle. Have you all to myself.”</p><p>“Another month and I’ll be all yours until the next tour,” Thorne promised. “But the truth is that you’ll always have me.”</p><p>“And you’ll always have me,” John promised. </p><p>They kissed again before boarding the bus and heading off to continue the tour, ready to face whatever happened together.</p>
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